The Elvenking's Lady
by Aearwen22
Summary: Thranduil's return from military action to rid the Hithaeglir of remaining minions of the Enemy doesn't go quite as Elara expected. Sequel to the series that begins with In The Dark, all of which need to be read first, in order. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Homecoming

_"By the Belain, I have missed you," Thranduil exclaimed as they walked down the corridor towards his apartment, his free hand covering hers and pinning it firmly to his arm._

_"And I you, Sire," Elara confessed earnestly. "I was beginning to fear that Rhîw would arrive before you did."_

_"I would never leave you alone here for that long, my gift," he soothed. His arm slipped from beneath her hand and wrapped itself tightly around her waist as they turned the corner into the family wing. It seemed as if his steps sped up just a bit more, and Elara smiled at the thought that he was looking forward to a far more personal reunion the moment they were alone._

_She was right. He had no more than escorted her into his apartment and latched the door firmly behind them before he was growling, "Elara nîn," and lifting her up in arms of iron. "How I have looked forward to this day!"_

"My Lady?" Tarion sounded worried. "My Lady? Are you all right?"

Elara sighed as the memory of her lovely dream from the previous night shattered and the fragments blew away in process of being recalled to her responsibilities. "I'm well," she reassured the ever-patient seneschal, drawing her mind back into the present and the many details that still needed to be addressed before Eryn Lasgalen could be considered ready for yet another winter. "A little tired, perhaps," she admitted sheepishly. "I didn't sleep well."

There was a slight hesitation, as always happened when her discussions with Thranduil's right-hand man veered into more personal terrain. "We are all worried about them," Tarion offered very cautiously. "I am certain they will be back soon. _Aran _said that he did not think the campaign would last into _Rhîw_."

Elara nodded and sighed again. "I know. I just..."

"You worry about _Aran_, I know," Tarion observed kindly. "We all do. But Thranduil is a skilled warrior, with battle-hardened troops with him from Eryn Lasgalen, Imladris and Lothlórien. He will return safely." A hand came from out of nowhere and patted Elara's forearm gently. "Just you wait and see."

"You're right." She forced a smile to her lips and out of habit wiped the back of her hand across her sightless eyes, as if that would help her clear her thoughts. "Where were we, now?"

Tarion easily returned to the report he'd been discussing. "As I was saying, we have thirty-five tons of grain, seven tons of walnuts, eight of..."

With difficulty, she turned her mind back to the issue of making certain Eryn Lasgalen would have adequate winter supplies. Little had she known that she had a head for such things, much less the ability to visualize amounts as balanced against need and then retain the knowledge. Seeing to the stores of the Hall was one of the tasks Tarion and Randirion assured her was traditionally that of the Lady of the hall in both Elven and mortal realms, and one that the Elvenking himself would be more than happy to transfer to her shoulders, if she could handle it.

The first year had been difficult, although she'd had Thranduil's advice in her ear every evening to show her where and how to better delegate authority or demonstrate leadership. After the second winter had come and gone with more than adequate stores to keep the Greenwood Elves well-fed and warm with only minimal assistance, he had made certain that she knew just how proud and pleased he was that she was accepting her new place and responsibilities in his hall and in his life so fully.

But this year, he was gone with Celeborn and the sons of Elrond, along with a combined force of Elven warriors, to help cleanse the length of the Misty Mountains of as many of the defeated Enemy minions as could be uncovered. They had left at the very first of _Lothron_, and had been gone over half a year now; and she desperately missed his voice of reason and experience in her ear.

"What about meat?" she asked finally, filing away in her memory the totals Tarion gave her.

"The forest is being generous this year." She heard Tarion shuffling paper. "We have the meat of thirty deer already dried and stored, twenty smoked, and five more still being processed. We have over a hundred fish smoked, twenty dried and about fifty stored in salt. The rabbit and squirrel populations were bountiful this year, so there should be more than adequate hunting even in _Rhîw_ for fresher meat when needed."

"Very well." She'd heard enough. "Based on a population of three hundred fifty, we will need to come up with at least fifteen more tons of grain, at least ten more tons each of chestnuts and hazelnuts, and fifteen tons of walnuts. The meat of twenty more deer and fifty or seventy-five more fish would help. We're still gathering berries and drying fruits, yes?"

"Yes, and while we have no harvest totals from that as yet, it looks to have been a very decent year there as well. The orchards bore well, and the berry vines proved quite bountiful for a change. We have also been cultivating some of the 'tater' plants that _Ernil_ Legolas had sent to us from the Shire last year - and we have in stock a healthy harvest of those tubers, as well as wild carrots. Some of the outlying farms put in beans and peas as well, and we have yet to get harvest totals from them; I assume we shall know more as they move to the Hall after the first snows."

"Good," she nodded. "What about honey? Were we able to recoup from last year?"

"Not quite yet, but Elberen was certain that he knows where two or three more hives are with a surplus that can be harvested without too much danger of harming the bees."

"What about our trade with the men of Esgaroth? Or have we both met our obligations to the other for the year?"

"Obligations on that front have been met by both sides. We have one hundred wheels of cheese, thirty buckets of butter, fifty casks of Dorwinion and a hundred barrels of lesser wine that were traded for suedes, leather and silk, as well as the time and muscles of some of our warriors to help with some of their construction projects. I feel confident that our people are well on the way to surviving _Rhîw_ very comfortably. We just need to finish with the hunting, gathering and harvesting that you indicate."

"How about the spider silk supply - were we able to gather enough?"

Tarion actually chuckled. "Of all the things we harvest from the forest, we need worry about the supply of silk the least, Lady. Our silkiers spend the spring and early summer feeding the young spiders with small prey and collecting spent egg pouches, then the early autumn gathering the silk from abandoned webs as the spiders die off. The carts are still coming in, but this year's supply of raw silk is certainly no less than last year's - which was quite abundant. I should have more totals for you on that by first snow."

"Wood?"

"There is still plenty of deadwood to be gathered from where the fires killed back to the rootstock. And many gatherers are still to make the trip in to the hall. We should have a better idea of what is needed within two weeks."

"And leather?"

"Again, we shall have better totals after all are within the Halls by first snow."

"Then that's all we can do at the moment, until we have more information. Thank you, Tarion." She relaxed back against the cushion of her chair, suddenly dizzy.

She could hear the sound of papers being shuffled together. "Shall I send Míriel to you, Lady?" the seneschal asked, sounding worried. "You look pale."

"No." Elara pushed herself to stand. "Like I said before, I'm just tired. I think I shall lie down for a while."

"Very well, my Lady. You go rest; you have earned it. I still have no idea how you can keep everything I just told you in your head to call upon when next we meet." An arm inserted itself beneath one of her hands. "May I escort you?"

Under normal circumstances, Elara would have refused. She was proud of the manner in which she had regained her health after nearly starving herself to death in Ithilien. But this day, she could feel a heaviness in her chest that was bothersome. "I would appreciate your arm today, my Lord," she replied.

"You work every bit as hard as _Aran_ ever does," the Elf counselor chided her as they walked slowly. "I have heard from others that you seem more worn of late, however, and I fear I must agree with them. _Aran_ will have my ears in a jar on his desk if your health diminishes under my watch, you know."

"I'm well, Tarion," Elara reassured the seneschal. "Like I said, I didn't sleep well last night. I will rest before the dinner hour - I promise."

"I will hold you to that promise," Tarion told her, and a quick touch to the latch of the door he halted her in front of told her it was her own. "I happen to value my ears."

"Until later," Elara chuckled, and she was relieved to hear him chuckle in return before she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Once inside, however, her need to pretend that all was well was gone, and she slumped back against the closed door.

Even knowing the separation was not a permanent one, and despite the chance that, at any moment, Thranduil could come riding up to the Hall entrance in triumph and sweep back into her life again, she was pining for him in much the same way she had in Ithilien. She knew Míriel kept an eagle eye on her appetite and diet, for she had been present when Thranduil had explained to her friend just what had gone on during her time in Ithilien; and she wanted neither Míriel nor Thranduil himself to be angry with her for squandering her health in that way again. But she had lost weight anyway, she knew; her gowns hung much looser on her frame than before.

She just wanted Thranduil back so desperately it literally hurt.

_Thranduil, please!_ she sent out into the silence yet again. _Just let me know all is well!_ His brushes against the back of her mind those first few months had been great reassurances for her; but they had not come for weeks now, just as she received no answer now. Was he injured? Had something happened to him? Why wouldn't he answer her?

She caught a sob back in her throat. When she'd been married to Timon, she'd never needed to fear that he would leave her to go off to battle. That he had died defending her and their baby anyway and left her behind all alone had been an almost insurmountable grief - conquered only because of the caring and attention showered on her so unexpectedly by the King of the Woodland Elves himself. And now she had been left behind again - in a way that she only barely understood. She knew what Thranduil was doing was important, and she didn't begrudge him the need to take part in the cleansing; but her world had lost most of its light when he had ridden away.

Elara straightened and walked surely toward her bedroom. She should be like Míriel, calm and collected, even though Randirion had donned armor he hadn't worn in centuries to go off with Thranduil and the others. She showed no signs of worry whatsoever - or at least, never aired her concerns publicly. Or she could try to emulate Irieth, who was now heavily pregnant with one of the first elflings to be born in Thranduil's halls in over a millennium. Irieth moved from one day to the next in grace and serenity, never doubting the arrival of the day when the Elvenking would be there to welcome his newest subject into the world. It was Míriel's outer and inner calm and Irieth's certainty that had anchored and soothed Elara's fears of late, and she knew that if she were wise, she should go down to the solar to join her friends in sewing and mutual comforting. If something bad had happened to Thranduil, Míriel would know of it through her bond with Randirion. And she wouldn't keep such news to herself - would she?

She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, toed off her slippers and then settled back onto her pillow and absently rubbed her fingers against her chest over the spot that felt heavy and aching. Aragorn had warned her that he suspected her heart had been damaged when she had come close to starving herself to death in Ithilien; and three small scares since her return home had convinced Thranduil that she was indeed more fragile than she appeared. This was the second afternoon in a row that she had felt this heaviness, however; she would have to tell Míriel of it if it happened again.

But not now. Elara yawned and pulled the bedspread to fold over herself. Perhaps just a short nap would ease the ache and give her the energy to walk to the Great Hall for supper.

oOoOo

_"Lady," she heard Randirion's voice call to her, "I have sad tidings for you. Aran..."_

_"Please," Elara begged. "No..."_

_"There was a battle - there were many more yrch than we had expected. Aran was on the northern flank with the Greenwood archers when a unit of warg riders broke through. I'm sorry. I escaped with my own life only because I was close enough to Lord Celeborn's men. We won the battle, but lost greatly." Randirion's large hand grasped her shoulder tightly. "You must be strong for us now, Elara. Aran would have wanted it."_

_"He can't be gone..."_

"Elara!" A hand shook her shoulder.

_"We brought him home, though. He will rest beneath his Greenwood."_

_"He can't be dead... No! Thranduil!" she screamed._

"Elara! Awaken, please!" The hand at her shoulder shook her harder. "It is but a bad dream."

The nightmare faded all too slowly, leaving Elara breathless and panting her distress, reaching up to whoever it was that had awakened her to anchor her to a reality that didn't include Thranduil's... "A... dream?"

"Yes." It was Míriel. "You were late for supper, and I came to see if all was well."

"I dreamed..." Elara pushed herself up on an elbow and wiped at her face, only to be surprised to find it wet.

"It was fairly obvious what you were dreaming," Míriel replied gently. "I was going to let you sleep and bring you a late meal just before retiring until I heard you cry out." Elara felt the bed dip beneath the healer's weight. "He is well, Elara. If he were not, you would know beyond all doubt already."

She had thought so too, once. Now, she wasn't so sure. "How?" she asked with a quavering voice.

Míriel's voice was firm and yet comforting. "Thranduil told me the two of you had established a bond of sorts, as strange as that seemed to him at the time."

Elara gaped. She knew? "I didn't know he'd told you."

Míriel chuckled. "There was very little Thranduil did _not_ tell me back then, my dear. Since Lalaith left us, I had been a confidante. He told me once that I was as close as he could get to Lalaith in this world anymore."

Elara nodded. Somehow, that sounded like him.

"If what both he and I suspected were true, then you would have no doubts if he were to suffer a lethal blow. A great deal of pain is felt through the bond shared by mates when the _faer_ is ripped untimely from the _rhaw_."

Míriel thought they were mates - that Thranduil would break his oath to her sister so easily? "So if I haven't felt something... agonizing..." Elara asked hesitantly, uncertain of how Míriel must feel about her intruding in a part of Thranduil's life where only her sister Lalaith should exist.

"Then chances are that he is well."

"But he hasn't spoken... thought... used the bond..."

"There are many reasons why that might be," Míriel pulled the bedspread away from Elara and pulled on an arm to help her sit up. "If he were injured, for example. Knowing your inexperience in such matters, he would be aware that opening the bond could serve to frighten you terribly. He would close himself away, not reply to you, in order not to alarm you."

"Injured!" Elara breathed in horror.

"But not fatally so, remember," Míriel reminded her in a determined tone. "Do not assume the worst - for despair can be almost as poisonous as an orc arrow." She pulled on Elara's legs and twisted her so that her feet dangled. "He will return to you; you must believe this."

Elara sighed. "It's just been so long..." she complained softly, unable to prevent the words from escaping.

She felt Míriel aim her toes back into her slippers. "It is always this way for those of us left behind when our warriors go off to battle. We _Evair_ know that if one of our warriors falls, the _faer_ will come home for a time to comfort those left behind, and eventually fade away to become part of the spirit of the forest. Some of them, however, will now listen for the call to _Bannoth_ - especially if they know their mate will eventually go West. Which way the one left behind believes will generally influence the choice the dying will make." Agile fingers began tucking stray tendrils of hair back into Elara's braids and replacing pins to make their hold more secure. "How this would come into play with you and Thranduil is a good question - there is little known about what happens when Elves and Mortals bond. Whether your bond is as complete as was his bond with Lalaith... I could not say, and Thranduil either was uncertain or unwilling to state."

"Does it..." Elara began, then bit her lip.

"Does it what?"

"Bother you? That I... that Thranduil... our bond..."

"Of course not!" Míriel let out a short laugh like the chime of a bell. "Frankly, I am glad that he finally found another to help ease Lalaith's loss for him, mortal or otherwise; and that you brought him through the loss of half of his people without his losing his sanity as well. That I also happen to enjoy your company does not hurt either, you know..."

Strong hands pulled Elara to her feet and then a friendly arm wound itself about her waist. "His time with you will be all too brief to begrudge him any enjoyment of it - or you. Most of those who would have disputed his actions are long gone - and those of us who remain know all too well how your leaving us the last time affected him." She gave Elara's waist a small squeeze. "Now, don't you think you should come to the Great Hall, before the cooks decide to close down the kitchens?"

Elara paused, keeping Míriel from moving forward. "Thank you. I needed someone to tell me these things."

The tall healer bent to Elara's ear. "You need to be strong just a little while longer. He is going to be so proud of you when he returns - or so Baradion tells me. Both he and Tarion are in awe of your memory for details, knowing you cannot write things down to remember them that way. According to them, this will be one of the best-stocked _Rhîw_ since Galion left us for _Bannoth_."

Elara knew she was blushing. To be compared favorably with the almost legendary and much mourned Galion was a great compliment indeed. "I don't know about that..."

"It matters not," Míriel told her as the sound of a harp and flute grew closer. "As far as I and many here are concerned, Thranduil found a very talented _fireth_ for himself. You make our _Aran_ happy, and the way you serve Eryn Lasgalen faithfully and diligently is obvious to anyone with eyes. It is no wonder that..."

"You found her." Irieth spoke in relief from Elara's right. "You have been missed this evening, Lady."

"I fell asleep," Elara explained lamely.

A gentle hand captured her elbow. "The cooks set aside a portion for you before they cleared the tables."

"I must thank them..."

"I shall be happy to express your gratitude to them for you, if you wish," Míriel said quickly, "_after_ I know that you have had a good meal."

Elara didn't dare sigh, or rub her aching chest again.

oOoOo

Elara's head rose sharply as the door to the solar burst open. "Lady! Lady Elara!" an excited voice exclaimed loudly.

"Yes?" Elara beckoned for whoever it was to come forward. "What is it?"

"Aran! We have heard from the watchers on the border! Our warriors return!"

Elara's hand flew to her mouth. "How long?" she asked breathlessly.

"An hour, maybe less."

She carefully marked her place in her work and set it aside to rise. "I will go with you," Irieth told her, taking her hand. "You need to dress for the welcome."

"I know." Elara had never thought her heart could pound quite so hard before. She had dreamed of this moment far too many times in the long and lonely months; and now it was real. "The welcome cup..."

"I will speak to the cooks," Araniel spoke up from not far away. "Go get ready - and do not forget your circlet."

"I won't," Elara tossed back, already dragged forward by Irieth. "Slow down!" she complained only a few moments later, out of breath.

"I would like to have a good spot to watch the welcoming," her friend replied, not slowing down in the least. "Baradion tells me now the news is spreading that we have lost none of our warriors - that they all return to us safe and whole. He also says that we welcome honored guests among us - our _Avarren_ kin joined in the cleansing and stop here on their way back to the deeper forests." Elara heard her door pushed open hard enough to hit the wall behind it. "That is a great honor, Elara. The _Avarrim_ _never_ leave their deep forests. You may meet some who remember waking next to the waters of Cuiviénen - some of the most ancient and esteemed still in Ennor."

Elara did as much as she could to help bustle herself out of her workaday linen gown and into the green velvet that was her best formal gown, and then sat while Irieth made quick work of rearranging and pinning her braids up into something a little better than everyday. "Where is your circlet?" her friend demanded finally. "You stand as the Lady of the Hall this day - you must wear it."

"There's a velvet bag - I think in the top drawer near the bed," Elara directed.

"Got it." And soon the cool metal was settled against her forehead, with the gentle tapping of what she knew was a leaf-shaped emerald high above her eyebrows. "Come now - we need to make certain _Aran's_ crown is properly woven, and the welcome cup ready."

Again Elara was dragged hurriedly through the corridors of a Hall already beginning to hum with the welcoming song that Míriel and Irieth had taken great pains to teach her. Elara listened carefully, but she still couldn't hear the strains of the answering melody that Thranduil himself had taught her on the trip home from Ithilien. "Do you remember the words to say to greet _Aran_?"

"Tarion has me repeat them every day or so," Elara replied, her excitement growing. "I think I could recite them in my sleep, if called upon."

"Be careful with it, Lady," warned an unfamiliar voice as a delicate circle of vines with dried leaves was placed in hands directed by Irieth. "Perhaps it would be best if we keep it safe on a pillow until it is time for you to give it to _Aran_."

"That would be best," Elara agreed. "Irieth?"

"I am getting one," her friend spoke from some distance away, and then again from closer. "Here." Gentle fingers directed her to deposit the fragile crown onto a cushion.

"And I shall care for the welcome cup," Araniel announced unexpectedly, making Elara jump slightly. "Sorry," was the immediate amendment.

"How far out are they now?" Elara demanded instead, a hand at her throat and wishing her heart would stop pounding quite so hard.

"We can hear them now," another unfamiliar voice answered excitedly. "Less than half an hour."

Míriel chuckled. "Randirion says that _Aran_ is getting impatient, wanting to canter ahead but knowing better than to leave _Aran_ Borendor behind."

Elara smiled. That was her Elvenking; when the two of them had re-entered the wood at the end of their journey from Ithilien, he had urged his stallion to step lively and quickly rather than walk through the forest at a sedate pace. "I should be outside, waiting for him to arrive, should I not?" she asked of the cloud of Elves around her.

"There she is!" she heard Tarion exclaim. "And dressed properly, I see. Good! Good! Come now." She felt the seneschal's firm hand commandeer her elbow and begin leading her again. "Now remember: Baradion will be on your left, holding the welcome cup; while I will be on your right, with _Aran's_ crown. You will greet _Aran_ first, and return his crown to him - then offer him the welcome cup. Next, you will offer the cup to _Aran_ Borendor, and extend the hospitality of Eryn Lasgalen to him and his brave men."

"What then?" she wanted to know.

"Aran Thranduil will probably give a short speech, welcoming Aran Borendor and the _Avarren_ warriors, then dismiss both companies to rest and refresh themselves before the feast tonight."

"Feast!" Elara pulled at the hand to slow her progress. "Someone needs to make arrangements with the cooks..."

"The plans for this feast have been long since finalized, Lady," Araniel told her as Tarion insistently pulled Elara along despite her hesitation. "I put things in motion when I told them to prepare the welcome cup. If I know Tinuiel, she will already have the roasts on the spits."

"Have Elhadril open some of the closed apartments to house our guests - and remind her to prepare one of the empty suites in the royal wing for _Aran_ Borendor," Elara directed, trusting that someone in the vicinity would take her instructions to the head of the housekeeping Elves. "We will need adequate wood to warm the rooms, and warming pots with freshening herbs set out in rooms that have been closed all this time. Make certain a carafe of the finest wine is delivered..."

"I'm certain Elhadril knows how to prepare for visitors," Tarion told her. "Come now, if _Aran_ convinces _Aran_ Borendor to press forward faster, we won't be ready on time."

As it was, Elara's heart pounded even harder with excitement and elation when she could finally hear Thranduil's deep voice threading his song of return into the song of welcome issuing from the Greenwood Elves. The combined song was new, however; a different melody wove itself in with the familiar ones that must be the song of the _Avarrim_. The pulse of the Greenwood was strong; Elara could feel it vibrating up through her feet as she stood at the very top step before the great doors to the Hall.

At last she could hear the sound of horse hooves against the packed earthen courtyard, and behind that, the sound of many, many Elven feet. A hand at her elbow told her that her Lord approached her, and she stepped forward and turned to the right to slowly finger her way across the cushion to the delicate crown. She turned back forward with it in her hands, and could feel someone had knelt before her.

"It is my pleasure to once more return Eryn Lasgalen into the hands of her rightful King," she intoned, extending her hands out over where she hoped Thranduil's head was. The gentle fingers that pushed her hands up just a bit and then helped settle the crown were Thranduil's own; and his touch was warm and left her tingling.

He rose before her. "With gratitude, we accept once more the crown of Eryn Lasgalen, and we thank all of those who kept her safely for us in our absence." Only once before had she been so nearly bowled over by the sound of one person's voice. She could feel the heaviness in her chest swell slightly, but she ignored it in her joy to know that her Lord was safe, and well, and standing right in front of her once more.

Elara turned to her left and felt Baradion press the tall welcome cup into her hands. Again she faced forward again. "Please accept this cup, and the welcome of your people, _Aran_ Thranduil Oropherion," she intoned, again extending her hands.

Thranduil took the cup from her, again with his fingers gently brushing hers. But instead of returning the cup to her, as she had been told was the custom, he turned around. "_Aran_ Borendor, it was an extreme honor and privilege to stand and fight beside you in ridding our mountains and woods of the last of the Enemy's minions. Please accept this cup and know that the welcome of Eryn Lasgalen that it represents shall be yours until the breaking of the world."

"We honor the friendship, kinship and alliance with our Silvan brothers," an even deeper and slightly accented voice stated very formally. "It is with pleasure we drink of your welcome and accept the offer of the hospitality of your hall. May the Powers ever bless your house and your realm, _Aran_ Thranduil Oropherion."

"Let the news now be spread across the land. The Enemy resides no more in the Hithaeglir. Our roads are safe from all who held allegiance to the Dark Lord or his captains. And to all of those who fought bravely to accomplish this and have come home whole to a man, let there be great praise!" Thranduil announced grandly.

Immediately, everyone who had crowded to the front of the Hall to see and hear gave a shout that echoed through the mountain. Thranduil cleared his voice, and the tumult ceased. "Therefore, let those who have families to greet them find rest and reunion with loved ones. Rooms are being prepared for our honored guests, are they not?"

Elara blinked to find herself addressed directly, and it took a moment to move through the sense of dizziness. "Sire, they are being prepared as we speak."

"Warriors of Eryn Lasgalen, of Eryn Dínen, you are dismissed!"

There was a collective cheer from both the warriors and the families that now spilled out of the great door in search of their loved ones, and Thranduil captured Elara's hand and pulled her safely out of the way and into his side. Elara knew better than to lean into him yet, no matter how much she both wanted and needed to. Tarion had been most specific as to what was expected of her - and of the King. Thranduil would have many duties that had to be seen to once he arrived, and she would be in charge of seeing to it that all necessary arrangements were made for the feast that evening; so the time for her to greet him privately would not come for many hours.

"Borendor, may I present Elariel Bardhoniel, Lady of Eryn Lasgalen. Elara, this is _Aran_ Borendor of Eryn Dhínen, the Silent Wood of the _Avarrim_."

"Sire, it is an honor." Elara dropped into as graceful curtsey as she could manage. Hearing her full, formal name reminded her yet again of the very official nature of that introduction.

"So this is the _fireth_ that has you so tied in knots, my friend," the deep voice chuckled, and then a hand on hers lifted Elara to stand erect again. "It is my great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady."

"Sire?" She had tied Thranduil in knots? What was he talking about? Had she done something wrong after all?

"Peace, child, you have done your Lord no harm," the very deep voice soothed at her with a note of amusement. "I have had very little contact with your people, so you must excuse me if my humor does not strike properly."

Elara felt Thranduil's arm surround her shoulder. "Allow us to show you to a suitable apartment, where you may refresh yourself and rest for a time before our feast. Come, Elara. Did you by any chance have any of the suites in the royal wing prepared as well?"

"Yes, Sire," she answered quietly, thoroughly intimidated to be in such lofty company. Thranduil had long since stopped being a King for her except in title under normal circumstances - but now, she felt very much at a disadvantage. She was only a wood-gatherer's daughter and wife; how she had ended up in the position of the Lady of the Elvenking's Hall still astounded her. And now, walking between two Elven Kings of unimaginable antiquity, she felt the full weight of her position and, for the first time in years, felt completely out of place performing the duties that had fallen to her.

"I knew I could depend on you," Thranduil said softly, bending down to put his lips close to her ear. "You have lost weight again. I will hear of this soon."

Elara nodded. She wasn't surprised he'd noticed. She could only hope he'd understand the distress that had cost her appetite.

_Sindarin Vocabulary_

_Aran - King [I am proposing two different modes of usage: (1) when used with a name, it__ is a title (2) when used alone, it is the equivalent of "Your/His Majesty".]  
Avarren - Avari (adj.)_

_Avarrim - Avari (collective noun)  
Bannoth - the halls of the dead (Q. Mandos)  
Belain - the Powers (Q. Valar)  
Ernil - Prince (same usage as Aran)  
Evair - Avari (several Avari individuals)  
faer - soul, spirit  
fireth - mortal woman  
Lothron - near the end of Spring  
nîn - my, mine_

_rhaw - body, physical form_

_Rhîw - Winter_


	2. Misunderstandings

Chapter 2 - Misunderstandings

"Oh! Help me out of this wretched armor, Elara!" Thranduil groaned the moment the door to his private apartment had closed behind the two of them. "It protects one from arrows and swords, but rubs the body in all the wrong places after many days on the back of a horse!"

"Where?" Elara moved closer. She'd helped him put the armor on before he left - tying some of the laces - and she felt across the metal-inlaid leather to find those laces again.

"You are pale," Thranduil said softly as they worked together to loosen the hold the armor had on him, "and you have lost weight. You have not been eating properly again."

"I missed you," Elara stated, ducking her face down and concentrating on feeling her way to untying the knots. "I called to you over and over again, and you didn't answer me anymore. I was frightened that…"

"I know," he replied and then shrugged off the chest plate beneath her hands and allowed it to slip to the floor. "Come here." He reached out to her and pulled her close to him and into a tight hug at last. "I am here, Elara, and I am going nowhere for a very long time.

"I was so worried," she said with a hitch in her voice, her arms slipping immediately around his waist and holding him back. "I thought..."

"I knew you would fret," he answered, his lips in her hair, "but there was no alternative." He took a deep breath. "You should know that I am well now, but there was one battle where I almost did not survive. Warg riders broke through the line of our archers, and..."

"Oh!" Elara shuddered. "That was my nightmare - that warg riders had broken through the line. Randirion came to me and told me that you had fallen... that he alone had survived because he was close to Lord Celeborn's men..."

His arms tightened around her. "I did not fall, but I _was_ badly hurt. That was our last battle - the one where the Enemy finally threw everything they had at us, and there were more of them than we expected. It took time for me to heal enough to sit my horse and begin the journey home." He was silent for a moment, and Elara knew that he could feel her trembling. "I did not expect you to know. If I had known of your fears and nightmares, I would have answered you at once, to set your mind at ease. Forgive me; I underestimated the strength of our bond."

"Míriel woke me from the nightmare a few days ago, and she explained to me that if you had truly fallen, I would have known it." Her hands twisted in the silk tunic that had protected his skin from the chafing leather. "Until then, I was so afraid that you wouldn't come back."

"I will always come back to you, Elara _nîn_," Thranduil's deep voice rumbled soothingly at her. "Always, in the evenings, my thoughts were with you, wishing I could hold you close in the night. I rest better when you are near; and now there will be no reason to pull me from your side again." Again he let a long silence fall between them, during which time each enjoyed the simple pleasure of holding the other again. Finally he sighed. "I suppose I need to bathe and change into more comfortable robes, and then see Tarion before the feast. There are commendations to be awarded this night that cannot be set aside."

"I am delaying you." Elara backed away immediately, only to be snatched close again.

"Come back here! I have looked forward to having you as a most pleasant distraction for quite a while now." He swayed back and forth slightly, as if calming a small child. "The feast will not start without me, and I think a King should be allowed a little time with his Lady after such a long absence."

She snuggled into the warm safety of his embrace. Still... "Shall I tell you how many times Tarion lectured me on the importance of duty, or how the higher the position of authority one holds, the more important it is not to shirk..."

"He would," Thranduil commented dryly. "Although Randirion always passed along glowing reports from Míriel of how diligent and hard-working you were, so I doubt that Tarion was giving you the lecture because you had tried to avoid _your_ duties. Relax - I only intend to linger here a little longer and enjoy the peace and quiet with you before returning to my duties and allowing you to return to yours." He kissed the top of her head and continued more softly. "I have not yet told you how much I love you and have missed your company."

"I love you too," Elara said quietly, "and I missed you desperately."

"You will not let your health falter any further," he ordered her in a deliberate yet tender voice. "I forbid it."

"I will obey," she responded with a soft smile, "because you are here once more to keep me honest."

"This is good, for you know very well that the Elvenking is cruel and does not take it well when crossed. They say he is a tyrant."

"And proud of it too." Her smile grew broader with the repeat of an old and familiar source of private laughter between them.

"Definitely." Thranduil put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face. "When it comes to protecting your health, I am most definitely willing to play the tyrant."

His kiss was as gentle and tender as it had ever been, and Elara rejoiced to feel the warmth of his embrace magnified as he gathered her close through their bond as well. He kissed both cheeks and then her eyelids. "Ai, Elara! We have so much to discuss that must wait until later. Forgive me for distressing you so. Promise me you will rest now and regain the roses in your cheeks."

"I will do whatever you ask of me," she sighed contentedly. He was home –Thranduil was home – and life seemed poised to right itself again.

oOoOo

The commendations ceremony took place prior to the feast, and Elara could feel the swell of pride as each name was called and the award presented. She beamed as Randirion was called to kneel before his King, knowing how proud Míriel must be of her husband for being the one to save the King's life. Elara promised herself that she would make an opportunity to thank him privately for his bravery.

At the meal, she picked at her food but at the first taste found it had once more regained its flavor, and so she needed no quiet pokes in the ribs from Thranduil to keep her nibbling until the small helpings were all gone. The conversation with the _Avarren_ King held her spellbound, as tales of Ages long ago were spoken of between Thranduil and Borendor as if they had happened less than a year previously. The surprise came in discovering that Borendor was Míriel's uncle; and that it was he that had awakened in that mythical time by the shores of the long-lost lake.

Later, to the accompaniment of several of the _Avarren_ warriors, who proved themselves very capable musicians, Borendor himself sang the story of the awakening of the Elves and of those first centuries to all who remained in the Hall. Elara leaned against Thranduil's arm, utterly captivated by the tale and the music weaving together so seamlessly that she could almost see the events happening before her eyes. She had heard the story before, told in poetry and song, but the immediacy in Borendor's voice pulled her in and made her understand all that happened.

Then, at last, Thranduil rose and pulled Elara with him. "Please continue to enjoy the hospitality of my Hall, Aran Borendor," he told the other Elven King, "but I believe my Lady and I are ready to retire for the evening."

Elara felt the movement as the _Avarren_ King rose as well. "May the stars shine brightly upon you this night, my son," Borendor intoned almost formally, "and upon you, child of the _edain_. May you both dwell long and happily together beneath the leaves of your trees." A strong and long-fingered hand rested very briefly on the top of her head.

"Thank you," Elara said, putting her hand to her heart and bowing in the manner Míriel had once told her was a proper Elven farewell. Then Thranduil's arm about her shoulder drew her away.

"He called you 'my son?'" she wondered as they walked slowly toward the royal wing.

"He is my uncle by marriage, brother to Lalaith's father, who was King in those days. By tradition, he is the eldest of my household when he is present." Thranduil replied. "The Powers themselves must have aligned to put us together in this battle, for I had not anticipated his involvement with the cleansing. He explained many things to me that I did not understand before while I lay recovering from my wounds." His arm about her tightened. "And I must tell you of these things, for they are important to us."

"What things?"

"They must wait until we are alone, behind closed doors," the Elvenking told her solemnly. "Patience."

"How badly were you hurt?" she asked then. "Where?"

"It is fully healed, Elara _nîn_, nothing to worry about anymore," he reassured her.

"But..."

"Honestly, it is healed - as are all the other wounds I have suffered over the Ages. Peace - I am well and whole." He pushed at a door and opened it. "Here we are."

"Your rooms or mine?" she queried, putting out a hand.

"Ours," he replied firmly. "I had your belongings moved here during the feast, for you shall be living here with me from now on. So there is no reason for you to go to your old suite - there is nothing for you there any longer."

"What?" Elara hesitated in shock. Before he had left, he had been most insistent that they maintain separate apartments for propriety's sake; even though nearly every night saw him entering her rooms and sharing the bed with her. His place was on top of the covers, with her tucked in warmly beneath them, wrapped in his arms with her head pillowed on his shoulder or chest. What had begun in Ithilien as mutual comfort had become a habit neither wanted to break.

"Come." His arm about her shoulder had not loosened, and he pulled her through the sitting room and in the direction she knew led to his bedroom. "We can speak of this more as we undress." After a few more steps, he stopped her and then lifted the circlet from her hair. "You looked very much like a proper Lady of Eryn Lasgalen this day, Elara."

"You're stalling," she stated flatly. "What's going on, that you would stop worrying about the propriety of it becoming known throughout the Hall that a married Elvenking and a widowed mortal woman live together and even sleep together every night?"

Thranduil sighed. "I was never worried," he then replied casually, walking across the room she knew to stow the circlet properly - more than likely along with his own. "I was merely being conscientious of the feelings of others - including you."

Perhaps he was right, Elara considered. She had never wanted to seem like she was trying for a position or privilege that she didn't deserve - and she most definitely was not the King's wife. "What has changed, then, that these things no longer are important?"

She heard him step toward her, and his gentle hands turned her and began working at the laces of her gown. "I told you," he replied, bending so close to her that his breath rippled across the back of her neck, leaving her wondering whether she had imagined the lightest brush of lips. "I spoke at length with Borendor, and many things that I never knew or understood were made plain."

Elara sniffed. "That tells me very little."

The moment the laces were loosened, he began removing the pins from her hair and letting her braids down. "Then I shall tell you a story that will bring all into clarity. A very long time ago, when I was very young in Doriath, my father decided he wanted a simpler life. He and his followers left Doriath before it fell and came to the Greenwood, where he founded an enclave in conjunction with some of Nandor and Evyrren in the area and eventually became the King. But his upbringing continued to reflect the way things were done in Doriath, where the laws and traditions of the Valar held sway because, although we were Sindar, we had had a Maia for a queen. And while I have not felt the need to be bound by those laws and traditions to a great extent, some of them reflect Sindarin ideals as well, so I have not openly broken with them."

His fingers began loosening the braids. "When Lalaith died, I assumed that she would have gone to Mandos' Halls and then been reborn in Aman. It never occurred to me to think otherwise. What I did not know was..."

"You mean she didn't?" Elara turned toward him, only to be gently turned away again so that Thranduil could continue his task.

"No; I have recently learned she did not," he answered simply. "When I thought I was speaking to her in Aman through our bond, I was speaking to her houseless _faer,_ which had remained close to me to offer comfort. She did not answer Mandos' call, because she knew my oath to her father meant I would never be able to go West; so she chose the fate of her kin: to stay near and comfort the living for a time, and then fade and join with the spirit of the wood, even as I will eventually. But my grief was great - my need for her comfort even greater - and so she stayed close for a very long time; far longer than most remain. And she did not tell me of what she had done because she knew I took comfort in the thought that she lived once more in Aman, especially after I learned of my son's Sea Longing. I was glad that at least he would have one of us with him there, too."

"What does this have to do with..."

"Patience," he soothed, his hands gathering her hair together and loosely braiding it into a single plait. "Do you remember, long ago, when I told you that her voice in my mind was beginning to fade?"

"Yes," Elara answered. "Why?"

"Because there was a reason for it. Borendor told me that Lalaith had most likely seen you come into the Hall - seen that I found your company more than just intriguing - and knew that my need for her was coming to an end. She could finally rest. I did not entirely believe him, so I reached out to her once more - and she told me that he told the truth. Her time with me was over, and I would no longer be able to reach her again. Her voice in my mind was so very soft, and I know I will never hear it again." Finished at last, he stepped in front of her in time to thumb away tears. "What is this?"

"You have lost her all over again," Elara replied softly. "I'm so sorry."

"No, no! Weep not for me!" He gathered her into his arms. "We said our farewells, something she knew that I needed to do before she faded away again; but ours was not a painful parting. I know she is here, in Eryn Lasgalen, as part of the spirit of the Greenwood that has touched you and spoken to you. You know of what I speak."

Elara nodded against his chest. The Greenwood was an entity of great grandeur and incomprehensible depth; it had revealed itself to her once in a glimpse that still amazed and confused her.

Thranduil continued, "Borendor also told me that it is not unusual for an _Avar _whose mate dies to eventually learn to love another, perhaps even to marry again; that such a thing is considered normal and unremarkable. Death, to an _Avar_, ends the oath that cleaves husband to wife."

Elara grew very still. "What are you saying?"

One of the Elvenking's arms remained around her, holding her to him tightly; the other allowed his hand to begin to wander, to brush back wisps of hair from her face. "While I was recovering, I spoke to Borendor of you often. Eventually I admitted that I had become very fond of you, that I loved you. I thought I was confessing a wrong; instead, he laughed and told me to rejoice. Lalaith would not wish for me to live to the breaking of the world without the comfort of companionship and love, and that there was nothing standing in the way to prevent me from finding or loving another. He told me it was unfortunate that I had chosen to give my heart to a mortal, for our time together will be so brief; but that we should enjoy our time together to the fullest for as long as we are given to be together, and do so without guilt. Once Lalaith confirmed everything he had said, I promised myself that, the moment I returned to you, _that_ was exactly what we would do."

"And so here we are." A finger beneath her chin lifted her face. "What Borendor gave to us, as we left the Hall just now, was the gift of his blessings on what will happen this night, Elara, if you are willing." He bent and kissed her cheek. "My sweet _fíriel_." He kissed her nose. "My gift." He kissed her other cheek. "My treasure." He brushed her lips very lightly with his. "_Na vedui, meleth nîn!_" And then his lips captured hers in a kiss that began as softly and tenderly as always, but became slowly more insistent.

Stunned, Elara couldn't help but wonder if she hadn't fallen into one of her impossible dreams, where her Elvenking would move their relationship from the quiet and tender love that held no fire which they had shared for years now to something far more intense. His gentle tongue caressed her lips within the kiss, silently asking something of her she had no way of understanding. Timon had never done such a thing!

With one large hand cradling her head, he lifted his lips from hers and dragged them to her ear, dropping tiny, fiery kisses all the way. "Open to me, my love," he whispered in a deep and urgent tone, "and let me show you our way. Let me make you mine."

"Thranduil," she managed before he sealed her mouth with his again. Trustingly, she parted her lips, only to be amazed when his tongue very carefully ventured into the vault of her mouth, touching and stroking. He tasted of wine and the nut cakes that had been served for dessert, and she found the entire idea oddly arousing. She would have been quite happy to continue to investigate this new and intriguing way of kissing, an entirely new and pleasant intimacy, but that his hand had dropped to her shoulder and was now easing her gown and chemise down.

His lips soon followed, tracing kisses from behind her ear, which she discovered was very sensitive now, and down her neck. "Thranduil!" she tried again, finding her voice shaky and broken. "What are you doing?"

He lifted his head and chuckled at her. "I am doing exactly what you think I'm doing, _meleth_. What did you expect?"

Things were suddenly moving far too quickly, and she began to squirm. "But…"

She ought to have known better. When Thranduil wanted to hold onto her, there was no getting away from him. "Relax. All is well, is it not?" His hand had stopped pushing her dress down her arm, and he sounded amused.

"It is, but…"

His breath was hot in her ear. "Then what is the problem?"

Indeed, he was within his rights to ask her why she was complaining. Had she not dreamed of this many times? Her lack of a good answer for him gave him the opening he was obviously waiting for, and he began landing kisses on her neck and took her earlobe between gentle teeth and sucking on it. "I have waited for so long to be able to do this…"

Elara could feel her heart rushing from the way he was kissing her, touching her. It was making her feel as if she had run a great distance, And yet, she had to try to explain… "This is happening so fast, Thranduil. Please…"

"We have already had our long betrothal, Elara," he smoothed his hand down her cheek. "We have lived as husband and wife in all ways but one since before we returned from Ithilien. Quietly, yes, with great discretion, that the fact remains that, for all intents and purposes…"

"I know, but…"

He didn't allow her to continue, but pressed his lips to hers yet again, this time more firmly and his tongue swept and demanded entrance. At the same time his fingers resumed easing her gown even further from her shoulders with determined movements. When at last he broke the kiss to move to her neck, she finally gasped, "Thranduil! Stop!"

"What is it?" He nuzzled her hair while his hands fell to her waist and rocked her gently. "You have said that this is what you have always wanted. Have you changed your mind?"

"No, but…"

"But?" She could hear the patience in his voice, and also heard that patience rapidly reaching its end.

She sighed and leaned into him, willing him to try to understand her. "To move from what we have had to…" Just how far _had_ he intended to go? "I just want a mome…"

"There is no reason not to move on from what we have had before," he cajoled and dropped a kiss on the edge of her ear that made her shiver. "I am not married anymore… at least, not at this very instant. I intend to remedy that situation very soon, however…" His tongue traced the inner curve of her ear, and he pressed himself against her so that she could feel his desire for her.

"Don't I get a say…?"

She felt him hesitate, and then snort in what she knew was impatience. "You have said much over the years we have been together, my gift. I know that you want this as much as I do…" His fingers returned to her shoulders, and she knew that only one more small push would shift it to a point where Elara knew she would feel exposed. Vulnerable.

"I do, but…" she replied, trying to undo the damage he was doing to her state of attire. "Give me a moment, and…"

Now he did hesitate, and pulled back from her a little. "Why? What is going on here?"

"I would just like a moment to think…" Why, oh why, would he not listen to her? She caught at his hand and pulled it away from her gown. "Please!"

He stiffened. "Do you no longer wish my touch, is that it?" Oh, Elara thought, she was on dangerous ground! There was a definite hint of frustration and anger in his voice now, and she could feel his hold on her beginning to loosen.

"I didn't say that," she said in a rush.

"Is it then that you prefer that we limit ourselves only to what we have shared before?"

"No, but…"

"Then be at peace, my gift." He gathered her close again and buried his nose in her hair. "The long days of our having to make do with half-way gestures is over." One hand cupped her jaw and he kissed her again, while the other settled to the small of her back and pressed her firmly against his hardness.

She wrenched her lips from his and began pushing at his chest. "Thranduil, please! Stop for a…" This determined man, intent on taking her to his bed and not at all listening to her, was a stranger. Where had her patient Elvenking gone?

With a growl he let go of her abruptly and put distance between them. "Do you have any idea what it has been like to dream of you night after night, ever since we began our return journey? I have ached to hold you, to love you the way you deserve. And now, when I offer you everything, you…"

"I have missed you too…"

His sniff of derision hurt. "Yes, you say you have missed me. But not enough to want to finish what we started in Ithilien, to accept my offer of m…"

"That isn't fair." Stung, she raised her head. "You have had all those days of travel to get yourself nicely worked up, so that when you finally arrived, all you can think of is to get me into your bed."

"Is _that_ all you think I considered?" He sounded genuinely angry now.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I have lived with you for how many years now? And you have told me endlessly that what we had would have to be enough – that there would _never_ be passion between us. I have learned the limits to which you would allow us to go: which touches you would allow and which you would not, learned not to think beyond so that I can enjoy the happiness we have. And now, after being gone for the longest half a year I've ever spent in my life, you are suddenly back, lifting all the limits and changing everything I've ever known about living with you with a wave of your hand…" She put on her hip the hand not involved in holding her gown up. "Have you thought about how the rest of your people will take…"

His growl was almost frightening. "They will take this because it is my will, or they will pack and find another Elven enclave. How many times have I told you this before now?"

"But that was different!"

"Only to _us_!" he insisted, his voice sinking dangerously. "Those who do not know us, especially those who just happen to observe my leaving your rooms early in the morning, assume we have been lovers for a very long time. This merely…"

"Yes, and I have heard the whispers!" she snapped back. "My sight may be gone, but my hearing is very good. They accept me because you demand it of them, and because I have a good mind for keeping your people prepared for the winter. What will they say when you throw this in their faces?"

"They will say nothing, because they will not have any knowledge that things have changed except in one respect." His voice had that warning tone that it got before an explosion.

"But…"

"Are you ashamed of being with me? Is that it?"

"If I were ashamed of being with you, I would never have allowed you to sleep with me in the first place, however innocently!"

"Why did you then?" He was almost shouting.

"Because you wanted to be there, and because I wanted you there too." Why wasn't he listening to her?

"You allowed me into your bed, allowed me to hold you close in the night, but now do not wish me to make love to you or claim you as my own. Is that correct?" He wasn't shouting anymore, but his voice had taken on a cold tone that she'd never heard before from him.

"It isn't that I don't want…"

"Yes, or no?"

Stung again, she straightened her back. "It is not a yes or no question, Thranduil. I wish to be consulted in the process, not taken for…"

"What, in the name of every spirit and tree, do you think I have been _doing_ for the last few minutes?" he shouted again.

She shrugged her chemise and gown back up securely onto her shoulder. The last thing she wanted at this moment in time was to be undressed. "Still taking my agreement for granted," she said, finally letting her own temper loose a bit, "and throwing a fit when I do not simply tumble into your bed on demand."

Elara heard the scuff of his slippers as he moved rapidly about the room – probably pacing, she decided. "We have spoken often enough about what we wanted when I believed it to be impossible. I did not think we would have to go over that ground again, especially since the situation has changed. Obviously, I misjudged your response, and you have no interest after all in what I am offering you."

She heard a sound she hadn't expected: the door to his apartment opening. "Thranduil?" Hands out, she felt her way across the bedchamber and then across the sitting room to the door. "Where are you going?"

"Lighting the fire for you in your chambers, my lady," came his reply in a cutting tone from a distance away. "I would not have you cold when you retire this night… alone."

Alone! But he had just gotten back. "Thranduil…"

His hand closed on her arm in a grip that was tight but not quite bruising. "We are not having this discussion in the hallway. We are not having this discussion anymore at all. You have made your wishes plain, and I am merely abiding by them."

Now she was in tears. "Don't do this," she pleaded.

"This is not my doing, lady." With a hand to the small of her back, he nudged her into her old suite without making her trip. "I wish you good night." And with that, he pulled the door closed with a very final slam.

"Thranduil!" she cried out, utterly bereft. But he didn't come back. In fact, she heard the door to his chambers slam just moments later. _Thranduil! Don't do this!_

_Stay out of my mind!_ his mental voice snarled at her, and then it was like the door that had linked them in that way was slammed shut as well.

She reached out for the familiar placement of furniture and sank into her favorite chair in front of the fire, not feeling the warmth at all. The wonderful welcome and all the joy of having him back had been snatched away. She didn't understand him at all, nor did she understand why the seemly endless patience with which he had always handled her had vanished so abruptly.

Her head fell into the palm of a hand propped up by the elbow on the arm of the chair, and the tears began to fall. This was worse than anything that had happened between them in Ithilien, or any of their previous spats since coming home. They had argued, yes; both of them had stubborn streaks and exercised them regularly with no small amount of heat. But never – not once – had he thrust her away from him in such a... a… _final_ manner. This was utter abandonment, with no hope of reprieve.

In shock and unable to even conceive of what life would be like for her now, she cried until she had no more tears, and then leaned back in the chair and fell into a restless sleep haunted by snarling voices and the cold sound of doors slamming closed.


	3. Talking Points

Chapter 3 - Talking Points

When Elara awoke, she had a stiff neck, she was very cold, and she was hungry. From the sounds of the voices singing through the Hall, it was very early morning. It took her a moment to realize that of course Míriel wouldn't come for her at all today. Míriel probably expected her to be enjoying her time with Thranduil.

Just thinking his name gave her a hollow feeling inside. He had thrown her away and left her with nothing to live for anymore.

What was she going to do?

The last thing she wanted was to stay and be the object of pity or derision from the rest of the community. She'd had enough of _that_ years before. No, Thranduil didn't want her – he'd shut her out of his life completely now – then her only recourse was that she would leave, the sooner the better.

All of her things were in _his_ chamber, however.

Then again, what more did she need? She had the clothes on her back; they were more than the burned rags she had worn when she had arrived in his Halls originally.

Elara forced herself to straighten up and stand, and then reach awkwardly for the laces to her gown. Thranduil had done a good job of loosening them, but by straining and nearly twisting herself in two, she was finally able to do a mediocre job of putting herself back together. Her hair was down, but what did it matter? She knew the _ellith_ often wore their hair loose about their shoulders, so she shook out the braiding that was left.

It took a while to work up the courage to open the door to her rooms and venture out into the hallway. All was quiet, as it normally was in the family wing at this early hour of the day. It was just as well, for Elara really didn't want to have to meet or hold a civil conversation with anyone. Her hand against the wall, she followed the path she'd finally learned after all these years. Down the hallway to the main meeting hall, around to the left until she had passed three corridor entries, and then onward down the fourth hallway until she was at the front door to the Hall.

"Lady?" She didn't know the voice, but then, she didn't know all the outer guards.

"I just want to go out for some air," she said with as convincing a smile as she could put on her face.

"Shall I call someone to guide you?" Whoever he was, he sounded young and very sweet.

"No," she answered gently. "I'd rather be alone, please."

"But…"

"Just open it for me, please?" Her voice grew firm and took on the tone of authority she'd been using with the cooks and housekeeping staff for years now.

Then she heard it: the grinding noise of the rock doors that protected the sanctity of Thranduil's underground Halls. Beyond, she knew, was the bridge over the stream and, some distance beyond that, the Elf Path. The wind blew in on her, very cold, making her finally miss the warm cloak that Thranduil had given her…

No. She wouldn't think about anything Thranduil had given her, or that he'd said to her, or… No. That was finished now.

She walked straight from the door, listening carefully for the sounds of the water. When she knew herself directly over the sound of the water, she was satisfied she'd found and navigated the bridge. She wrapped her arms about herself against the chill. She hadn't been here on foot for years, and the last time had been quite frightening.

Maybe this was better. There had been talk of a storm coming, one that promised the first snow of the year. She had heard stories of those caught in the winter's chill. It was supposed to be a very easy death.

Death?

She stopped and thought for a moment. Yes, that was what she was seeking now: the peace that should have been hers in traveling past the circles of the world with her son and her husband all those years ago. There was nothing left for her in this world anymore.

She lifted her head and began walking.

oOoOo

It was getting harder for Elara to lift her feet, as tired as she was. She had been walking for what seemed like forever and fallen too many times to count now; her knees, hips and hands were aching from landing on rocks and exposed roots. The cold taken foremost place in her mind along with the pain, and she held her hands out in front of her so that she didn't run head-first into any more trees. It seemed they were no longer her friends either.

It had been a final blow to crush her spirit, what little she had left: even the comfort of the pulse of the Greenwood was to be denied her now. She'd leaned against several of the trees in the last few minutes – hours – wanting just a little comfort, and felt… nothing. Had it only been through Thranduil that she'd been able to…

No. Those thoughts led nowhere. He wasn't a part of her world anymore. Nothing of his world had been hers – not really. That evidently included the Greenwood. He had left her adrift with nothing she could call her own.

Her hands encountered another tree, and she pressed herself against the cold, silent wood in an attempt to at least get a small respite from the wind that whistled a sad and lonely song through the forest. She was almost at the end of her strength, and finally she let herself slide down the trunk until she was sitting on the freezing, barren ground. Her heart was pounding in her chest as if desperate to break free, and it was beginning to feel heavy and ache again.

She pulled her velvet skirt down over her legs and then bent to huddle down behind them. She wondered, in a moment of clarity, just how far she'd managed to come, and then dismissed the question as irrelevant. She knew she wasn't on the road anymore because of the number of rocks and roots that she'd tripped and fallen on - somewhere along the way she had missed having stepped off into the forest itself. Another violent shiver took her. It was bitterly cold, and small freezing stings on her cheek spoke of snow beginning to fall.

Another sound slowly came clearer, and Elara shook her head in disbelief. It was the sound of a horse at a slow trot. Maybe she hadn't wandered as far away from the road as she had thought. Still, she hunched herself behind her legs and shivered silently, hoping that whoever it was who rode out of the Elvenking's Halls would just ride on by.

Then she could hear more than one horse. Perhaps, now that Thranduil had told everyone that he was back and ready to assume his throne after all, Aran Borendor and his men were ready to continue on to their deeper woods. She sniffed and leaned her cheek against her knees. It didn't matter to her who it was…

"Over here! I found her!"

The hoofbeats came closer, and Elara pushed herself clumsily to her feet. She did _not_ want to be found! Hands out in front of her, she began to walk as quickly as she could, praying she wouldn't trip.

"Elara!" It was _his_ voice. She pushed herself into a stumbling trot.

She heard a horse pulled abruptly to a halt close by, and then suddenly there were arms around her from behind as she tripped over yet another obstacle in her way, catching her before she could fall flat on her face. "Stop this!" Thranduil ordered, his voice frantic.

She had had enough and began to struggle against him. "Let me go!" she screamed and kicked at where she hoped his legs were when he lifted her off the ground.

"NO!" she heard him shout, and thought that he was shouting at her until he added, in his most demanding and regal voice, "Leave us!" and then heard the sounds of horses moving away.

"Put me down!" she ground out between clenched teeth. She managed to get one arm free and began pounding her fist against the bands of hard muscle that surrounded her.

"I will put you down when you stop this mad flight!" he stated in a firm tone, clearly unaffected by her struggles. "Where did you think you were going anyway?"

"Anywhere other than where I was not wanted," she hissed at him as she squirmed as hard as she could. "Let me go!"

"Not until you promise me you will stop! And what do you mean, where you were not wanted?"

"What do you care?" she demanded, nearing hysterics. "I am not a toy for you to play with when it suits you, throw me away when you tire of me or when I don't do as you ask, and then grab me up again when you feel like it again." She aimed a kick backwards and this time connected with one of his legs. "I said let _go_ of me!"

"Hush." His arms remained tight around her, but his voice had softened. "What are you talking about? I did not throw you away… I thought I had made it very clear how very _much_ you were wanted…"

"O really?" She pounded on his arms again. "What do you call being thrust into my old rooms – alone – and then told to stay out of your mind?"

"Shhhh…" He simply held on while she struggled and beat on his arms until what little energy she had to fight back was nearly expended. Once she finally hung limp in his grasp, he asked calmly, "Are you willing to hear me now?"

"No. Why should I listen to you now when you refused to hear me before?" She gave a half-hearted backward kick that ended up in thin air this time. She hated herself for it, but she stopped fighting as much because he was protecting her from the cold as anything else. His chest against her back and his arms around her were hard, but they were also warm. Despairing, she sagged again and this time gave a ragged sigh.

"I am going to put you up on Aduial. Do you promise not to try to get down and run again?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"No," she told him truthfully. She knew she wouldn't get far, but she _would _get down and try to run.

Thranduil sighed. "Then I shall have to carry you all the way back myself."

"No, I won't go back! Not if.."

"Not if?" He paused. "Not if what?"

Elara caught her breath against the ache in her chest. "Not if I'm going to be alone now. You might as well let me go, because I will be gone again the moment your back is turned, I swear it!"

"Oh, _meleth nîn_," he sighed again and leaned into the back of her neck. "How did things get to these straits? Why would you think you would be alone now?"

"But you…"

"Yes, I was angry with you last night; I admit it. I was so desperate for you after weeks of dreaming of you in my arms, and suddenly, just as the moment I had been dreaming and longing and waiting for approached, you did not seem to want my touch or any part of what I was offering you. You even pushed me away. Don't you understand? I put you in your old rooms to protect you from _me_." He buried his nose in her hair. "In the state I was in, I could not have merely held you through the night. I would have demanded more, and you had made it plain you were not interested in that."

"Why did you not give me a chance to get used to the idea?" she demanded sorrowfully. "I never said that I didn't want your touch, or that I wasn't interested. I just wanted a little time, to be asked, given a chance to think…" She shivered violently, her anger dissipating and leaving her prey to the cold again.

"We will continue this discussion, but we will continue it in our chambers, with you wrapped up in a blanket and thawing before a fire. Now, will you sit Aduial, or do I carry you?"

"I have no intention of cooperating with you at all until you tell me why you didn't give me a chance to get used to things being so different," she said stiffly. "You didn't answer my question, and I'm not going anywhere with you willingly until you do." She shivered again, her teeth chattering.

"Oh, for pity…" She scowled and crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest, even over his restrictive arm. "Very well," he said at last, reluctantly, "although I have already told you this once. I honestly did not think that such things would have been required." Again he leaned into her hair. "We have spoken of our desires often enough over the years. I had thought that if you knew that I had discovered that all the reasons I had given for keeping us apart no longer applied, you would be as anxious as I to make up for lost time. I wanted you so badly last night that I burned for you… I still want you, very much. That is something that will never change, do you understand? I will _always_ want you." He sighed. "_Now_ will you allow me to put you on Aduial before you freeze?"

She was shuddering too hard to answer, so she nodded as best she could. Before she could formulate another thought, Thranduil had spun her around and hoisted her in the air to perch her on his war-stallion's withers. He immediately sprang up behind her and pulled her to him. "This is the second time you have frightened me badly with fears of losing you to death," he chided her as he whipped his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her as best he could. "I came to your rooms to apologize for my temper and see if we could talk things out, only you were gone. The door stood open, the fire was out, the bed was not slept in..."

"I s..slept in the ch…chair." Even with the warmth of the cloak about her now, she could barely speak around the chattering of her teeth.

"And then, while Aran Borendor and I were speaking, I was informed that you had asked to go outside the Hall doors themselves for fresh air, and that's when I knew that something was desperately wrong. When you need air, you use the gardens, where you know you are safe; you do not go out the front door of the Hall." He had evidently touched Aduial's flank with his heel, for Elara felt the powerful horse burst into a full gallop. "You had taken no cloak, nothing to shield you from the cold. What _were_ you thinking?"

Elara had no intention of telling him what she'd been thinking; he'd only scold her more. She still wasn't certain things could ever be right between them again, but at least he was hearing and answering her for the moment. How long it would last – and how long before she was thrust aside again – she had no way of knowing. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, tucking her arms in close to her chest and huddling against his hard, warm chest as much as she could. The shivers were quite violent, despite the cloak and the warmth, and Thranduil had to hang onto her tightly when they took control of her.

She must have come farther than she thought, because it seemed to take forever to get back to the bridge over the stream at a full gallop and then be carried through the doors of the Hall. It was the very last place she wanted to be, and she'd be back among the very last people she wanted to be with.

oOoOo

"Elara, please!" Míriel pleaded, touching the mug of tea to her lips.

Elara wasn't having any of it, though. The blanket that surrounded her completely was finally beginning to warm her, as was the roaring fire that Thranduil had ordered built. The shivers could still overwhelm her, but slowly she was thawing. Two chairs had been moved together so that she had her feet up and supported, but still was sitting up.

"I do not understand you, my friend," Míriel told her sadly. "Have I offended you?"

Elara shook her head and then shuddered again.

"What is it then? Can you not tell me?"

"Give it to me. I shall get her to drink it." She should have known that Thranduil would have been hovering. She'd hoped that he'd gone back to his busy schedule. After all, he had the reins of the entire realm to pick up again. From the sounds of the voices in the air, it was evening now, but it couldn't have been that late…

Míriel obviously wasn't happy. "What happened here?" she demanded sharply. "Last night, from what Borendor told us all, was to have been your wedding night! What was your bride doing more than a full league from the Hall in nothing but a gown and light slippers? Thranduil, it was starting to snow!"

Was that how far she'd managed to get before he'd caught her? Wedding night?

"We can discuss this another time. Right now, however, I am probably the only one she will listen to – not that she is listening much to me either, at the moment." Thranduil sounded resigned. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"No. You know what needs to be done almost as well as I do. I shall be back in the morning, and hopefully you will feel more yourself, Elara." Míriel had moved further away.

The snick of the door latch told Elara that her friend had left. A stirring to her left betrayed Thranduil coming close. "You heard your healer; you need this," he cajoled, putting the rim of the mug to her lips. "Drink."

She put her lips together tightly and shook her head slowly enough that none of the hot liquid was made to spill. She wasn't in the mood to be any more cooperative with him now than she'd already been. She'd had enough of his dictatorial moods.

He sighed. "Will you at least speak to me?" The mug was removed, and she heard it being placed on a nearby table.

Elara turned her head away from the direction of Thranduil's voice. She was so tired, and the cold had taken so much out of her. What was more, her chest ached in much the same way it had ached in Ithilien. In a moment of perverse self-pity, she found herself wishing for some of Aragorn's disgusting tea; it would help the ache and send her to sleep. And right now, all she wanted to do was withdraw.

She felt Thranduil's hip pushing hers over a bit as he seated himself next to her. "What is it you want of me then?" he asked with a touch more frustration and concern. Gentle fingers brushed straggling hair away from her face. "How can we repair things between us if you will not speak to me?" He waited in vain for a response. "I am here now, and I assure you that I am listening to you very closely."

"For how long?" she asked before she caught herself. She hadn't meant to answer him at all.

"For as long as it takes," he said quietly. "I would hear whatever you need to say."

"It doesn't matter." Her voice was flat. "All the doors are shut. I cannot touch your mind, the Greenwood won't speak to me…"

"Of course you can touch my mind!" he exclaimed. "Why would you think… Oh."

Elara sighed. At least he was able to figure a few things out on his own.

_Meleth, I did not mean for that to be forever. I would not take this away from you._

"But you did." She winced, angry with herself for answering him again.

Thranduil physically flinched. "I was wrong to do that, and I am sorry." He sounded contrite, subdued. "I should have thought of how deeply that would cut, after learning how my refusing to answer you before, when I was hurt, frightened you so badly you began to fail again. Please forgive me."

She hadn't thought she'd have any more tears left to shed, but she felt her eyes fill and then spill over onto her cheeks. "And so now I know first-hand that the Elvenking, when angered, can be very cruel indeed."

"And he has rarely regretted his intemperate actions so much in all his very long life." A large hand cupped her cheek and turned her face to him again. "I will, for the rest of your life, be proving to you that such will never happen again." His thumbs gently wiped away the tears. "Please do not cry, Elara."

But it seemed that the wall that had held the tears back all this time had finally crumbled, and she couldn't help the sob that escaped. Thranduil rose, but then picked her up in his arms and seated himself in one of the chairs with her held close despite her half-hearted attempts to push him away. "My love," he murmured brokenly. "Do not turn from me!"

"I was not the one who turned away, Thranduil. I'm the one who has lost everything. I am no longer the Lady of Eryn Lasgalen," she sobbed, unable to hold in her grief. "And when you shut me out of your mind, the Greenwood abandoned me too. I no longer belong anywhere…"

"Hush. I tell you that you have lost nothing. You are still the Lady of Eryn Lasgalen. As for the other, you could not know it, but you had found your way to the part of the forest that burned completely during the War: where the fiercest of battles was fought and where most of the Enemy's dead were burned afterwards. All of the trees there have been dead for years. Their bones speak to no one, and it will be years yet before the Elves can convince the living forest to return." He kissed her forehead. "You belong; I swear it. You will always belong. Even if the Elvenking is thick-headed enough to be unreasonably cruel, the Greenwood has claimed you. It will deny you no more than you can deny it. It does not listen to me in matters like these; it never has."

"I still belong?" Elara hated how needy she sounded, but the loss of the Greenwood, combined with Thranduil's rejection, had nearly done her in.

"Of course you do! My heart, everything that you have ever wanted, from me or from my woods, is already yours. All you need do is put out your hand and take mine. You will want for nothing, I swear it." His arms had tightened around her. "You are not now, never have been, nor ever will be, a toy to be picked up, then tossed aside later. Elara, I am asking you to marry me - something I know now that I should have done before anything else last night."

"M…marry?" Elara hiccoughed back a sob.

"Yes, marry." His fingers wiped the tears from her cheeks tenderly. "Say yes. Please!"

"You should marry an Elven lady, who can be with you for all the Ages to come," she said softly once her tears had slowed and her sobs turned back to mere weeping. "I am ugly, blind, and mortal…"

"You are lovely in my eyes, see more clearly than I do as often as not, and, yes, you are mortal. But your mortality merely makes you that much more precious to me." He kissed her forehead again. "I do not want an Elven lady. I want _you_."

"I don't understand your ways of love," she told him. "You… when we… I had _never_…"

Thranduil sighed and shifted her so that he could hold her closer on his lap now that she wasn't actively trying to get away anymore. "I should have listened and paid more attention to you, to your reactions, and not been so eager to possess you. You were right: I _was_ taking things far too quickly; and I can see now you did not understand me fully. But I swear to you, we will take all the time you need for you to get used to the idea that I truly want to make you mine and intend to claim you as such at last. And I will hold in my impatience, just as you have held in your longings for all these years."

She desperately wanted things to be right between them again. He was everything to her; if he vanished from her life, she had nothing. She sighed and turned her face into his chest and leaned, and his arms closed around her even tighter, sheltering her as best he could. They stayed that way, silent, for a long moment.

Finally: "Thranduil? Can we just go to bed – to sleep? I am so tired, I can hardly think straight anymore…"

"If you will drink Míriel's tea, I will put you to bed," he bargained with her. She heard the mug pulled from the table and put once more to her lips. "Please. Míriel feels you need something to warm you from within as well as soothe your troubled _faer_."

This time, she drank.

oOoOo

Elara slowly awoke from a deep and dreamless sleep, and then gave a small sigh of relief to find her head pillowed on a shoulder that smelled of fresh forest and grass. Thranduil had his arm wrapped about her shoulder and the warm covers pulled high over them both. She had turned into him in her slumber, and her knee rested very familiarly over the top of his thigh. It took a moment for the reality to penetrate that he was beneath the covers _with_ her instead of resting atop them as he usually did, and that it was the heat of his body against hers warming her through thin silk and light linen.

If he hadn't been awake before her, he roused immediately at her stiffening in surprise. "Did you rest well?" he asked her very softly, the hand at her shoulder beneath the warm blankets starting to run down her upper arm lazily, urging her to relax again.

She nodded, wary. Had it all been a very, very bad nightmare?

"I have been thinking while I was waiting for you to awaken," he continued, and the hand slowly found its way back up to her shoulder again, "that we should start afresh today, as if all of yesterday, and the evil night before that, never happened."

So it hadn't been a bad dream after all. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

"Once I knew you were safely asleep, I left you long enough to tell Tarion that I would not be attending the realm's business for the time being, and that we are not to be disturbed for any reason less dire than an imminent invasion by _yrch_ or _naugrim_. I even told Míriel that you were better, that you had finished your tea, and then I asked her to leave us alone as well."

"Thranduil, we have guests," she reminded him, and then her heart sank. What _Aran_ Borendor must think of her now! "We cannot just vanish. We have duties…"

His hand patted her shoulder gently before starting a new trek down her upper arm. "My uncle by marriage will understand. He was in the middle of telling me what a fool I had been when I received the news that you had left the Hall."

"I will never be able to be in his presence again," Elara choked, feeling her face flush in mortification.

"Quite the contrary," he chuckled, giving her a gentle hug. "You have a most vocal defender. As I said, he was letting me know, in no uncertain terms, just where I had erred with you. And once we found out you were gone, he literally pushed me out the door with the advice that I not bother coming back until I found you and brought you home safely."

It didn't make sense! Aran Borendor didn't know her, had barely met her… "Why would he do that?"

"Because it is the way of his people." He turned his head and kissed her hair. "As you have no parents to speak up on your behalf, Borendor assumed the right to do so and then very strenuously took me to task for my treatment of you."

It still made no sense. "He must be very disappointed in your choice," she sighed, "and in mortals in general."

"He was disappointed in _me_, Elara," Thranduil told her. "He reminded me that new brides, whether Elven or mortal, have the right to be nervous; and they need to be handled with care by their new husbands, not rushed headlong into the joining."

"But I am no new bride, no innocent. I have been wife, mother…"

"But not to an Elf, _meleth_. Our ways are different from yours, as you keep discovering. And it has been a long time for you since Timon." He rolled slightly, not enough to pull his arm from beneath her, but enough that he now faced her. "And this is why we are now closeted and will not be disturbed. I am determined to woo you and win your trust again before I seduce you and make you my wife, for I will not have you in my bed either unwilling or frightened."

"I do trust you…"

"You used to, I am certain, but what I did has surely shaken your confidence in me. So we will start over, as if those events had never happened, and I will move forward at a more reasonable pace – one _you_ set." He fingered back her loose hair. "If you will allow it, I would kiss you, to show you my sincerity in this. May I?"

"You've never needed permission to kiss me, Thranduil."

She felt the touch of the backs of his fingers caressing her cheeks. "But I do now, because you need to know that I will never again ask more of you than you are willing to give. We will move forward only when you are ready, and only when you give me permission, I promise. But first, I need to know your will. Will you say yes, please – and accept all that I offer you and allow me to kiss you as a promise of what will come?"

Elara pulled her hand from where it had been resting at his chest and reached for his face to "see" him. It was a good face, with a strong, square jaw, full lips, and a straight and narrow nose. His skin was always so smooth beneath her fingers, unmarred by beard stubble or wrinkles. She traced the arch of his brows and very gently over his eyelids, following tiny creases that must be laugh lines before letting the palm of her hand hold his cheek. She loved him too much to give him any other answer. "Yes."

The kiss he gave her was much like the ones she had grown so used to and fond of. He reached for her wordlessly through their bond, and once more she was able to feel how very much he loved her. Lacing through the tenderness, however, was a sadness that showed her clearly how deeply he regretted what had happened. She relaxed into his embrace, startled and pleased when he did not pull away from her as he normally did. Then, as had happened the last time, his lips parted to let his tongue carefully touch and stroke her lips, asking permission to enter. This time she only hesitated a moment before she relaxed her lips and jaw to him. And once more, he caressed her very gently in this unfamiliar way of love, a totally new form of pleasure that was making her heart beat faster.

When his hand moved from her shoulder to caress her throat and the sensitive skin behind her ear, she made a small sound of pleasure and leaned into him a little more. Such tenderness! She had dreamed of Thranduil making love to her many times in the past, and it had always been more in keeping with what had almost happened two days ago – which in turn was more in line with her experiences as Timon's wife – but this gentle assault on her senses was something completely unexpected. All he had done was to add a delicate touch, first within the kiss, and now with his fingers, and then a little more warmth in her mind; but combined, they had said more about his feelings for her than any words could bear, and she was awed. When he brought the kiss to an end, she whimpered a small complaint until he trailed his lips to her cheek and jaw, leaving warmth and a new sense of want in his wake.

His lips returned and settled on hers much more firmly, and Elara was more than ready to open herself more fully to this deeper kiss that made her feel cherished, desired. The warmth that she had always felt from him through their bond grew to a new, fascinating heat. Was that the beginnings of Elven passion? She could feel her body waking up and starting to pay attention, and she wished that she knew what to do to return the pleasure he was giving her. Her hand, at a loss, finally tucked itself around his chest in an effort to hold him closer.

This time when he broke the kiss, he took a moment to smooth her hair back from her face before brushing his lips to her temple, and Elara was surprised to discover that she was breathless, as was he. "Do you find this pleasing?" he asked after a moment.

Couldn't he tell? "Oh yes!" The Elven way of love was very different from what she had known before, but altogether wonderful. She reached for him through their bond and showed him the contentment she was feeling.

As she had hoped, his lips landed on hers again, the kiss more vigorous yet, almost demanding, as his tongue now sported daringly with hers. The desire to bring him closer, to discover more of what he offered, surged through her; and through their bond she could sense that he in turn was both taking great delight in her reactions and yet definitely holding himself back. His fingers threaded themselves into her hair until he had her head between his hands, and when he finally released the kiss, it was to drop new kisses that were like tiny flames across her cheek to the tender skin beneath her ear. "My lovely _fireth_," he breathed warm and low, touching the lobe of her ear with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth for a moment.

A bolt of liquid fire rushed through her that lingered in places that had been long since asleep except in dreams. It was such a simple thing, and yet knowing it was Thranduil nibbling at her ear made it exhilarating. When she moved her head to give him better access to her neck, she found the open collar of his sleeping tunic close to her lips, and she couldn't resist easing the fabric aside and kissing his soft and oh-so-warm skin. She smiled when she felt him breathe out suddenly in response, and then leave her ear to work his way back to her mouth. Oh, the freedom to experiment and see what would give _him_ pleasure in return would be a challenge!

This kiss was hot and demanding, and the sudden flare of heat and desire coming at her through their bond was driving her heart to race hard. Never had she felt so alive, and nothing she'd ever experienced before had prepared her for this. Everything was new and exciting, and she wanted more of it.

But then Thranduil ended the kiss and nestled her back down on his shoulder. "I do not frighten you?" he asked breathlessly.

"No. I love you," she purred and rolled slightly to nose her way back to the open collar of his tunic and kiss the warm skin she had found, just to hear his hum of pleasure again.

He pressed a heated kiss onto her forehead. "And I love you, my gift, very much. And so that I do not overpower you all at once, we will now rise and break our fast. You, I believe, had little if anything to eat for all of yesterday, and not nearly enough for many days before that."

Now that he mentioned it, she _was_ hungry, but… "Thranduil?"

"Hush. I want you to have plenty of energy, _meleth_. We have all the time we need, with no duties pressing on either of us this day and for several days to come." He sat up and brought her sitting up with him, then kissed her gently on the lips and turned to throw his legs over the edge of the bed.

"But I thought…"

He walked around the end of the bed and grasped both her hands to help her turn and then rise, tucking her feet into thin slippers. "This is the Elven way, remember? Never fear, I fully intend to claim you and make you mine before our time alone is over, but it need not happen all at once. That was the biggest mistake I made on that evil night that never happened, and I will not make it again. We will move slowly…"

"Even if I want to…" His kisses and caresses were altogether addictive, and she didn't want them to stop at all.

"Even if you want to," he confirmed with a low and satisfied chuckle. "That you _do _want to means that I am doing things properly this time. Now, here." Suddenly, his hands were full of a warm robe that he helped her don and then tied the sash about her waist himself. "I have you nicely warmed up. I do not want you chilled again."

She reached out for him, following his voice until her hand found his chest with nothing but the thin silk of his sleeping tunic. "What about you?"

"I am not bothered by the cold as you are. You know this," he replied and pulled her into his arms. "Indeed, my problem today will be dealing with surplus heat." And with that, he lowered his lips to hers again in another demanding kiss that stole her breath away and made her heart pound. "And I find you an all too inviting source of fuel," he added eventually, quite breathless himself.

_Vocabulary_

_aran - King, Sire (I'm proposing the usage that when coupled with a name, it is the title "King"; when used alone, it means "Sire" as a form of direct address or reference.)_

_ellith - female elves (sing. elleth)_

_fireth - mortal woman_

_meleth - love, lover_

_naugrim - the Dwarves_

_nîn - my, mine_

_yrch - orcs (sing. orch)_


	4. Resolution

Chapter 4 - Resolution

Elara had never spent a more interesting or frustrating day in her life. In a vivid contrast to that nightmarish evening, Thranduil was in a particularly good mood, and his attitude was contagious. After breakfast, he helped her into a very warm gown, dressed himself in what felt like a simple set of suede leggings and tunic, and then spent the rest of the morning with her tucked against him in the pair of large comfortable chairs before the fire, his arm about her shoulders, telling her stories about the people he had spent the past six months with.

Elara was enchanted, amused and amazed by tales he told of Celeborn in Doriath and Lothlórien, of Elrond in Imladris, and of the mischief the twins Elladan and Elrohir had gotten into with Legolas when very young. Later, after their midday meal, he reclined next to her once more in the nest that was the two lounging chairs still together in front of the fire and sang to her tales of heroism, tales of tragedy – ancient tales, all of it Elven history, some of it he'd even witnessed personally. She'd heard him sing before, and enjoyed hearing him give a full demonstration of his vocal talent.

She had lived with the Elves for well over fifteen years now, and she had heard mention of many of these names off and on over that time. At last she began to get a better understanding of who these people were and what they had done that was noteworthy – filtered through Thranduil's sense of humor or sense of right and wrong. She asked questions when confused or curious, and he did his best to tell her all he could.

As the hours stretched, Elara knew she was being gifted a very special time, similar to their time in Ithilien, except that this time he wasn't nursing her back to health or worrying at her about anything. During this precious moment, she had all of his attention, and he was clearly enjoying the role he had set for himself. With no pressing royal duties, no distractions and no time constraints, he had relaxed into a completely new and utterly enchanting man clearly determined to entertain and please her, and she gladly set aside all memories of the uncomfortable reasons he had created this moment for them.

Often during the day, however, when their conversation would lag or between tales, Thranduil would simply turn her face up to his and kiss her until they both were breathless. As the day passed, these tantalizing but limited tastes of Elven passion made her very hungry for more than just kisses and curious about what else he had in store for her before he finally took her to his bed. But he was so very careful, and as time went by, she was starting to ache for him in ways she had not felt since Timon, and even then, not to the same extent. Her wordless complaints when the kisses would end slowly got louder and harder for him to soothe away.

Finally, in the middle of another moment of gentle, frustrating kisses, he raised his head from nibbling shivers of fire across the back of her shoulders above where the gown lay, and said in an almost hoarse voice, "I would ask your permission now to touch you as a man would touch his betrothed."

She leaned back against him and sighed, "Yes." At last he was going to show her more of this intoxicating way of making love!

He returned to nibble at her earlobe from where he sat behind her, but his hands, which had to that point remained chastely holding her at her waist, began to move. Slowly and very deliberately they smoothed across her stomach and then up her rib cage, back and forth across her front until they were just below her bosom. Tired of waiting, Elara put a hand over one of his and pulled it up to place it where she had been wanting – aching – for him to touch.

His voice chuckled wickedly in her ear. "Impatient," he rumbled at her.

"Laggard," she grumbled back and then sighed when he finally took charge of the hand and closed it over her breast. His thumb brushed across the hardness that pushed valiantly against the material of her gown, sending shocks of want surging through her. Never had she been so hungry for the touch of a man in quite this way before. And never before had _her_ pleasure seemed of such importance to the man in her life.

"Does this please you?" he whispered, his breath hot against her neck as his other hand found her other breast and pressed gently. From his tone, she knew he already knew the answer.

She hummed her answer and twisted slightly, and then he was kissing her again, his lips hot and insistent on hers. Everything in Elara's world suddenly reduced to the sensation of his hands on her and the way his kiss was making these braver touches even more arousing. Her hands fell to his thighs and followed the hard muscle to the knees in a gentle caress that was the only thing she could think of to give back to him even a small portion of the pleasure he was giving her.

A discrete tapping at the door of the chamber made them both groan in protest at the interruption. "Our supper has arrived, it seems," he whispered as his hands dropped back to hug her waist gently. He dropped a final kiss onto her neck. "We shall have to postpone this until after…"

Elara drooped back against him with a whimper, but he chuckled and caught at her hands to dislodge her from their comfortable nest. "You are teasing me," she accused him, once he had helped her to her feet again.

"Not at all," he told her, brushing hair away from her face and combing it back with his fingers. "I just want there to be no question in your mind that you are very much wanted and loved." His lips brushed her cheek very softly, and then he was gone, opening the door to his suite and allowing a silent servant in to set the table for them.

Over the meal, Thranduil turned the tables on her, getting her to talk about all that she'd done while he'd been gone. He quizzed her closely on the state of preparedness for the cold months ahead, her reasons for her decisions, and then about the various events that had happened in his absence. When she reminded him that Irieth and Baradion's child was due in a very little time, everything about him seemed to warm. She reached out to him through their bond and found herself enveloped in a rich sensation of pride and satisfaction.

When the meal was finished and the remains cleared away, he led her back to where the lounging chairs in front of his fire remained pushed together, lifted her feet so she was stretched comfortably, and then reclined next to her to gather her close in his arms. "This has been a good day," he said, his fingers tangled in and playing with her loose hair. "For the first time in a very long time, I have had you completely to myself without a single distraction."

"It has been a good day," Elara had to agree. She settled her head on Thranduil's shoulder and toyed with a long tendril of heavy, silken hair against the suede of his tunic. "Better than…"

"MMmm!" he hummed at her warningly, pulling his hand clear and pressing an insistent finger against her lips to stop her words. "Better than our days of leisure in Ithilien, you say? I agree."

She nodded her understanding. He had told her, when they first awoke that morning, that they were starting fresh, as if their argument and the events that followed had never happened. While it would be very hard for her to ever forget what it had felt like to be on the receiving end of one of his explosions of rage, it would do no good now to bring up the subject. After all, he was doing his level best to make amends for each and every point that had gone wrong. "At least you are not worried that I am not eating properly anymore."

"Worried, no. Watchful again, yes." His hands spanned her waist easily. "You are too important to me, and I will not have you failing again. You need to be more than a single handful."

"I'll be good, I promise," she murmured, nestling down even more comfortably against him.

"I know you will," he brushed his lips across the top of her forehead. "I love you very much, you know…"

Elara roused herself, turned her face up to his and, with a hand, found and pulled him down until she could kiss him. This time _she_ shyly touched her tongue to his lips as they rested on hers, and then cautiously proceeded when he opened to her. He tasted of the wine they had shared and of the apple pastries that had been dessert, as well as a tang that was Thranduil himself. His arm behind her pulled her close, and his other hand at first cupped her head and then slowly slipped down to where he could again cradle her breast in his hand.

She wanted so badly to return the caresses, and her fingers rested for a moment against his jaw and then went on a small journey of their own. She followed his jaw back and then very carefully moved to satisfy her curiosity by starting to trace the shell of his ear, something that he had consistently never allowed her to do. She felt him shiver, which he'd also never done before, and then his hand lifted from her breast and caught at hers. "That is a lover's touch, _meleth_," he whispered to her, his voice slightly hoarse and definitely breathless. "I will not deny it to you, if you really wish to continue, and I can promise that I will enjoy it immensely, but you should first know what you put into motion if you continue. Elven ears are very sensitive to the touch, especially at the tips. For us, the act of touching or stroking the tip of the ear is part of the act of joining our bodies together. You and I have yet to get to that point, although we are much closer now than before."

"But your touching me here is also a lover's touch, is it not?" she reminded him, pulling his hand back to her breast. "Am I not also allowed?"

"Yes, you are allowed." His hand cupped her gently, "but you should be aware that my body responds very quickly to such touches, and I do not wish to rush things and push to claim you before you are ready, as happened the last time. I would have us go slowly, so that I do nothing that confuses or frightens you." He captured and carried her fingers to his lips to kiss them one by one. "There will come a time soon now when I will very much wish your touch there, Elara, please believe me. And later, once we are well used to each other, I will have no complaints at all."

"I only want to know how to please you too," she complained softly. "I do not know how…"

"Oh, my gift, you please me this night just by remaining soft and willing in my arms," he breathed into her ear. "Anywhere you touch me pleases me greatly. However… Here, sit back for a moment…"

The instant that she moved away from him, she felt Thranduil pulling his tunic over his head and then dropping it to the floor. "Come back here," he invited, reaching out and pulling her back into his arms and against his warm, naked chest. "Does this help?"

Elara's hand slid slowly across smooth skin, so unlike Timon's. Her husband's chest had been covered with a sprinkling of soft hair that he had not wanted her to play with much. Up until now, Thranduil had always worn silk, suede, or his heavy robes. She found and very lightly traced a slightly raised line that curled from just below his ribs on one side all the way across his belly. It didn't take much imagination to figure out what this was. "This is healed now?" she asked quietly, appalled by what that raised line signified.

"Completely," he replied equally quietly.

He had indeed been badly wounded - nearly gutted. "You almost died." Her voice shook.

He pressed a kiss into her forehead. "But I did not," he reminded her gently. "I am here, right next to you, very much alive. And what you cannot see, or even feel anymore, are the other scars that, as this one will in time, have faded to barely nothing." His hand captured hers and moved it to a spot over his heart and held it there. "Feel my heart, how it beats? I am well; I am healed. That is all that matters now."

She did feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers, and she brushed a kiss over his collarbone as she relished her freedom to explore him. Her fingertips brushed a tiny, hard nugget in their path, and she heard him breathe in deeply and then close his hand more firmly over her breast again to tease her hard nipple with a determined thumb. Only an instant later, he had captured her lips with his and immediately deepened the kiss.

Her hand slid down his chest and then back up to touch and tease that tiny nugget, and then again. Thranduil hummed contentedly into their kiss and surrounded her mind with love and that alluring, addictive heat, and at last she knew she was doing something _right_. The beat of his heart was a tattoo against her fingertips every time she paused over it, working harder and faster, just as hers was.

This giving and receiving pleasure in equal measures beforehand, excited her beyond her wildest imaginings. It was so different from simply being expected to lie back after a few kisses and touches and wait for Timon to take his pleasure of her. Two sets of hands and lips kissed and touched and caressed and teased, each discovering what would bring that hitched sigh of delight from the other; and the warmth of love and passion flowing from one to the other through their bond grew stronger. Nothing else mattered to her than what he was doing and knowing that she was indeed giving him pleasure in return.

"I wish now to touch you as would a lover, a husband," he breathed hot against her neck. "May I unlace your gown?"

"Yes," she sighed as his kiss descended to the very base of her throat. It was time; for the entire day, she had been waiting and wondering. At last he was going to show her what she wanted most to know. His fingers played with the ribbon at her front that held the gown together, and then, suddenly, moved the thick fabric aside when the lacing gave way.

"So beautiful," he whispered as he found the drawstring to the blouse and loosened it as well, and then began to ease gown, blouse and chemise from her shoulder. His kisses followed the fleeing fabric, hot and insistent and oh so gentle. "At long last I am allowed to unwrap my gift."

oOoOo

Elara slowly roused from her deep sleep to the sensation of warmth pressed all along her back and legs. Soft breathing fanned the back of her neck, and a heavy arm was wrapped about her middle, holding her close from behind. It took a moment to realize that she wasn't wearing her normal sleeping gown, and a slightly longer moment to realize that not only was Thranduil beneath the blankets with her again, but that he wasn't wearing his silken sleeping clothes either. What was more, her body hummed at her in both satisfaction and fatigue, with muscles that had gone long unused making themselves known once more in no uncertain terms.

She relaxed and felt his arm tighten about her slightly, and a small sigh was breathed into the nape of her neck. Quietly, she smiled in utter contentment. Even asleep, Thranduil still held her possessively, as if worried she would try to escape him again. But there would be no escape for her, or any reason for her to want or need to escape anymore. Just as he had promised, he had wooed her until she was convinced of his sincerity, and then he had made her his. In the midst of kisses and caresses of a sort that just thinking about them made her heart beat faster, he had given her his vow, the kind that he told her later he should have given her long ago, and then… And then…

She covered his hand at her stomach with hers and relished the sense of completion, of total union, with him that persisted despite the passion being spent. After all the dreams and wishes, the frustrations, and ultimately the misunderstandings, he truly was hers at last, and she was his. Were it not that she could feel the heat of his skin against hers and the consequences of their exertions in the night, she could easily have believed herself merely dreaming again. But if this truly were a dream, she never wanted to awaken again.

She had thought she'd known passion with Timon, but Thranduil unleashed was a force of nature that defied comparison. She still marveled that this incredible man – Elf – had chosen _her_ despite her blindness and mortality, but he had left no doubts in her mind as to just how much he wanted her or how determined he was to make her his. He had been so careful all day, attentive and charming and making her want him with every mote of her being. And then, by turns, he was gentle, seductive, playful, exuberant, energetic, triumphant, determined; and through it all, very, very thorough as the night progressed. Her fingers now knew every inch of him, and his fingers and lips had explored her just as completely. She sighed softly at the memories of his touch.

"You are awake at last," he whispered into her hair.

Had she made more noise than she intended after all? "I awakened you. I'm sorry…"

"Nay. Hush." The arm that she'd been laying on without realizing it came up to hold her at her waist while the other hand smoothed her hair back from her face and into the pillow. "I merely dozed while waiting for you to rest." Lazy lips nibbled her now-bare shoulder. "And, as much as I would prefer it otherwise, I shall have to let you go soon so that we can break our fast."

"Is it morning already?" Elara asked wonderingly, and then listened carefully. Yes, the day songs were well underway. "I _have_ slept late."

"No matter. I was content to hold you close and doze long into the morning as well," he breathed into her ear, his voice rich and warm and smooth. "I would tell you that I did not mean to exhaust you last night, but it would be a lie."

"I'm not dreaming this, am I?" Elara asked, rolling in his arms so that she could snuggle against his chest in the way she loved best.

Thranduil's arms closed around her as he chuckled softly. "_Meleth_, if you are still wondering if you are dreaming, I did not do my job as husband properly at all last night. And I absolutely refuse to allow you to leave our marriage bed until you are quite convinced of the reality of our situation."

"What about _Aran_ Borendor? Your duties as king…"

"Borendor will be handling anything requiring a king's attention for me, I would hope," he replied as his hands began to stray. "Tarion knows that I wish not to be disturbed, as does Míriel. My duties can wait a few days, as can yours. You heard Míriel; everyone in the Halls knows that we are now wed. No one of any import will begrudge us our desire for seclusion for a few days." He dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead. "It is our way to allow time for the newly-bonded to concentrate on each other without distractions." One hand came up to cup her cheek. "Now, about that alarming illusion you seem to have that this is but another of your daydreams…"

"You think you can convince me otherwise, do you?" Elara smiled at him.

As his face slowly moved closer, he whispered, "I intend to give it my very best efforts, repeatedly, if needed."

"Good. I think I'll need lots of convincing." Her grin widened.

Thranduil's laugh came low and wicked and supremely satisfied, and then his lips brushed hers lightly. "You know, I believe I find that a very enjoyable prospect."

And then there was no more need for words.

oOoOo

She could sense him coming up behind her. "I see my tree has found a new friend," he commented with a smile in his voice, surrounding her waist with his hands.

Elara felt the rough bark beneath her fingers. "I think it's asleep." She could only barely feel the pulse of the Greenwood, and that pulse was slow.

"It is. But I am certain that once _Echuir_ arrives again, it will be delighted to have a more constant companion again." He bent and kissed an ear. "I came to tell you that I must away. I will need to consult with Baradion before we have our meeting with Tarion."

She took hold of his hands and wrapped herself in his arms. "And I need to speak to Míriel."

Thranduil's arms tightened about her. "And you still fear this."

"I was beyond rude to her." She wasn't surprised he could feel her fear. All she had to do now was concentrate just a little bit and she could sense his mood easily; it didn't take much to realize that the same was true of Thranduil. She now had an infinitely better understanding of what the Elves meant when they spoke of bonding, and why it was such a special facet to a relationship. Getting used to sharing an emotional intimacy that didn't lessen with distance or require much effort at all had been part of the reason behind their remaining secluded for nearly an entire week. "I fear I may have…"

"You have not, but I can see that only speaking to her directly will convince you." He turned her. "Come now. I would have a kiss to send me off this morning, and carry your smile with me."

Elara turned her face up and reached for where she knew he was. Her fingers carded through his silken hair while she shared a gentle, yet powerful embrace. "I will join you in a little while."

"Until then, _meleth._" He kissed her forehead yet again, and she could feel the reluctance through their bond even as he walked briskly away from her back into their suite.

In so many ways, she was deliriously happy. She belonged – to Thranduil, to the Greenwood – in ways that had seemed unattainable not so very long ago, and life seemed to be on the very brink of being as bright and full of promise as ever it had at any time before. The one stain on her happiness, however, was the memory of refusing to speak to Míriel.

She put her hands to her hair and felt where Thranduil had carefully placed each and every pin to hold up her thick braids. Certainly if _he_ felt her ready to face the world outside their suite door, then she was presentable enough. She walked to the door, took a deep breath to brace herself, and stepped outside to begin tracing her way down the corridor.

"Good morning, _hiril nîn,_" came several voices she knew: Eirien and Alphiel, the women who were in charge of keeping the King's suite neat and tidy, among them.

"Good morning," Elara returned with a deep nod of her head that Míriel had once told her was a polite form of response. Would she ever be able to enjoy her friend telling her all those little things about Elven life again, or had she lost that?

"Lady Elara. I am most happy to see you looking so well." _Aran_ Borendor's voice came at her from her right elbow.

She immediately turned in his direction and dropped into a curtsy. "_Aran_ Borendor, good morning."

"You need not be so formal, child." A large hand that reminded her very much of Thranduil's took charge of her elbow. "I thought I saw Thranduil heading in the direction of his study, and I hoped that I would be able to speak with you alone for a moment."

Elara had to struggle not to stand with her mouth open in shock. He wanted to speak to _her_? _WHY_? "What can I do for you, Sire?"

"You can tell me if all is well between you and my nephew-by-marriage," was the determined answer. "I was most concerned when I was informed of your unfortunate disagreement, and even more so when it was learned you had fled the Halls." His steps ceased, and his hand pulled her to a halt with him. "Are you well?"

She still didn't understand it, but was grateful for his solicitude. "I am very well, and Thranduil and I have resolved our… disagreement."

"Good." Borendor sounded satisfied. "You will send a message to me if ever that situation changes."

"Sire, I don't understand." Elara felt for his hand with her other and then pressed it into her arm. "I am mortal, and I'm only going to bring him sadness in the end. Why…"

"If I thought you were only going to bring him sadness, child, I would not bother with you." Borendor patted her hand with his free one. "But I have seen his heart, and I have seen him speak of you, even when he thought himself in the wrong for his feelings. And most importantly, I remember seeing him speak of my niece long ago. Thranduil's heart is an earnest, honest one. He defied his father to take Lalaith to wife, and agreed to a terrible oath to satisfy _her_ father of his worth. And now, he defies all tradition in taking you to wife, knowing how brief your life will be."

"I know. Even Lady Galadriel warned us," she remembered quietly.

"She spoke to a situation that has since changed. I do not think she would begrudge him his moments of happiness anymore than I do. You make him happy, and he is a man who deserves to be happy, even if for but a short time. And as you have no family to stand for you, or speak for you, I would be honored if you would allow me to continue to do so."

Elara still didn't understand, but the sincerity of the _Avarren_ King was such that she didn't have the heart to question it anymore. "On the contrary, it is _I_ who would be honored, _Aran_ Borendor," she said and curtsied again.

"Then leave away the title, little one, for the public gatherings or when others are about. To you, I shall be Borendor, a kinsman." His voice was warm and deep. "And now, may I assist you in making your way to Thranduil's study? I understand you and he have business of your realm to take care of…"

"Not quite yet. I need to go to the Healing Rooms first."

The hand at her elbow tightened. "You told me you were well," Borendor said softly.

"I am, I am." She squeezed his hand. "But during those dark hours, when Thranduil and I weren't communicating well, I was rude to someone who has been a great friend to me. At the very least, I owe her an apology."

"These Healing Rooms, they are not far?"

"Just around the corner at the end of this corridor."

"Very well, then. I shall see you this evening at dinner then. Perhaps I can even convince your husband to allow me a dance with you before I must away."

"You were very kind to stay as long as you have, and I know _I_ am grateful that you were willing to handle things while…"

Borendor laughed, and his laugh was easily as infectious as Thranduil's. "Go on with you, little one. Make your apology to your friend. I suspect it to be unnecessary, but that you will not rest until it is done. And I will _insist_ on a dance tonight, just to find out how things went." He dislodged his hand from her elbow and carried it to his lips. "I shall claim it as a kinsman's right, and your husband will not be able to refuse me."

Elara curtsied again, chuckling. "I look forward to this evening, then, kinsman."

Borendor walked away, his chuckles carrying back to her. Elara put her hands at her stomach, still overwhelmed by the thought that she had such an esteemed and unexpected champion. Then she took a deep breath, put out her hand to the corridor wall, and walked forward.

By the time she reached the Healing Rooms, however, the warm feelings she'd been given by Borendor had receded, and it felt as if her knees were ready to knock together. Still, this was something she had to do, and she stepped through the open door. "Míriel?"

"Good morrow, Elara," came her friend's voice from across the room, the voice cautious. "It is good to see you again. Are you well?"

"Yes." She took a breath, wishing she were braver. Still, she was there for a reason. "I have come to apologize for my behavior the last time I saw you."

"Really!"

Elara cringed, but knew she deserved the skepticism. Míriel had been utterly without fault in the entire situation, and yet she had refused to speak to her. All she could do was explain herself and then leave Míriel to either accept the apology or not. "Thranduil and I had… we had had a serious misunderstanding, and I wasn't at all happy about his bringing me back to the Hall. Even so, I shouldn't have exercised my temper on you when all you were doing was trying to help. I have no excuse, and I hope that someday you will forgive me."

It was all she could do to hold herself stiffly upright and then turn to leave the Healing Room as quickly as possible. She had the meeting with Tarion in Thranduil's study to see to yet that morning, but perhaps she would walk in the snow-filled garden adjacent to her new quarters afterwards, to try to clear her head. Even a sleeping tree and a slow, faint Greenwood pulse would be welcome comfort, for there was nothing more to be done that hadn't already been done.

A hand caught at her elbow before she could get past the threshold. "Wait." Míriel was strong, as was her grasp, but it didn't hurt. "Come in and sit down. I will make you some tea."

"I have a meeting with Tarion in…"

"You are pale, and Tarion will not mind your being just a few moments late," was the calm reply. "You and I need to speak properly and put this behind us so that you can be joyous in your new marriage. Despite what you might think, I do not wish to steal that glow from you – or Thranduil."

Elara allowed Míriel to lead her to a comfortable seat, and then listened as she bustled about until a warm mug was placed in her hands. "Here. This will help."

"Tea will not mend a friendship, Míriel," she answered quietly.

"But a talk might," Míriel countered, "and I was ready for some tea myself anyway." Elara heard the slight creak of another chair accepting the _elleth's_ weight.

"I don't want to interrupt your day…" Elara sipped at the tea and had to admit that it was delicate enough to settle well on a stomach that had endured all too many knots when trying to think of a way to mend fences with her friend.

"You are not interrupting. For a change, no one is sick or hurting, and I had little to do but inventory my supply of herbs." Míriel was quiet for a moment. "Is it so hard to believe that I am glad you came to see me?"

"You didn't sound glad." The statement was out before Elara could stop it.

"No, I did not, and I am sorry for that." A gentle touch on Elara's knee accompanied the apology. "And you need not explain what happened. When Thranduil came to me that night, to tell me that you had finally taken the tea, I made him explain everything as best he could. Neither one of us can understand how you can so easily invite your own doom the way you do sometimes, but he swore to me that he was determined to make amends to you. That you and he did not emerge again for nearly a week after that tells me that he was successful. I wish you joy, and do not envy you the task of managing such a difficult husband."

"I still didn't have to treat you the way I did. You were only trying to help…"

"As I said, you need not explain. You were hurting, and it was very obvious from your actions just how hurt you were. I have known Thranduil for a very long time, Elara, and I know that there are times when his temper does him and those closest to him no favors. When he turns that rage of his on an Elf, there is plenty of time afterwards for the process of forgiveness to happen as it will. With you, however, he does not have that luxury. Once he finally broke down and told me what happened, I forgave you your silence."

Elara didn't understand her at all. "Then why…"

"You startled me," Míriel's voice sounded chagrined. "I honestly did not expect you to tackle such a difficult thing almost the moment you emerged from your bonding time. And you sounded so very unsure of yourself, which is not the Elara that I have come to know these past few years."

"I'm not certain _I_ know the Elara I've been for these past few years," Elara commented very quietly. "There are times I feel very much out of place. I'm a wood gatherer's daughter and widow. What I'm doing among the Fair Folk…"

"You are taking care of the Elvenking's heart," Míriel answered firmly. "It is no small task you have undertaken, nor an easy one by any stretch. There are few among us now that would challenge you about your place at his side. Drink your tea," she urged with a note of authority. "If nothing else, it will ease your stomach so that your mind will be clear for your meeting with Tarion."

"So, we're friends again?" Elara asked wistfully.

Míriel's laugh rang like a clear bell through the room. "Of course we are friends, Elara. That never was in question. If you should know anything by now, it is that the Elves do not throw over friendships for such minor disagreements or difficulties."

Thranduil had tried to tell her this, even Borendor had hinted at it, but she hadn't been able to believe either of them. The relief was almost painful, and Elara buried her nose in her tea mug to hide for a moment while she steadied herself again.

"Now." Míriel had risen, and reclaimed the mug once Elara had emptied it. "I can see that having Thranduil back is helping you regain some of the ground you lost while he was gone, but I will want to see that glow on your face that is the rightful adornment of a new bride by the time I see you next. No more sorrowful thoughts, do you understand?"

Slowly Elara allowed her happiness to shine through again, now that her worst fear remaining from that difficult time had been set aside. "No more sorrowful thoughts. Thranduil is home, Randirion is home, and all is well with the world."

"And you are married."

_Meleth, Tarion is pacing in my office, declaring that I must be a bad influence on you if you cannot make a simple appointment and keep it the moment I am returned, after months of due diligence and punctuality. You are needed here, if for no other reason than to salvage my reputation._

"Yes," she replied with a grin that she felt all the way to the bottom of her soul. "I am married, and very happy."

_I'm on my way, Thranduil. Tell Tarion that Míriel insisted I partake of a medicinal tea before she would let me continue with my day, and see if that calms him. _

_You are well, my gift?_ A thread of concern and worry came at her through the now ever-present bond.

She sent him reassurance in return as she rose, _I am fine, husband. I'll be there as quickly as I can._ "And now I must go. It seems Tarion grows impatient with my tardiness, now that Thranduil is back."

"You can blame me," Míriel told her with a chuckle.

Elara laughed with her. "I already have. I was hoping you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all. I am happy for you both, and wish you many years of joy. You both deserve them so much!" Míriel hugged her tightly, and Elara clung for a moment before turning and finding the wall and the door to the Healing Rooms, heading for her husband's office as quickly as she could.

She was the Lady of the Hall, and she had duties to Hall and King, after all. Holding her head high, and with fingers lightly tracing the walls to know where she was and where she needed to go, Elara walked confidently toward her husband's study, and all that the future held for her.

**A/N: **This version is abridged to meet FFN's rather ridiculous ratings standards. Those who are over the age of consent and would like to see the complete version are invited to visit http colon slash slash bennasaearwen dot yolasite dot com. (FFN doesn't allow for links with sites other than its own, so you will need to remove word-punctuation and replace with real punctuation marks to get a useable URL for my private archive.)


End file.
